Whisper of Agony
by Light of the Eldar
Summary: Legolas disobeys his father's warning and bears witness to something that terrifies him to his very soul. Thranduil endeavors to save him, but what will the Elvenking do when the price turns out to be higher than even he had conceived. Pre FOTR/Hobbit. Crushing angst ensues.
1. Chapter 1: Undying Light

**Disclaimer: I don't own Legolas or any of the LOTR or Hobbit characters. All rights go to the brilliant minds of J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson, and I seek no money or profit from this fan-work.**

Author's note: I am super excited about writing a Legolas/Thranduil centric story centered around one of my favorite genres: Hurt/Comfort. The idea for this story came to me while recovering from an injury so there will be a lot of angst mixed with hurt/comfort. I have virtually everything written, so I will post the chapters in sequence after a week or two until the conclusion of this story.

Please note that the information contained within this chapter is crucial to understanding an angle of Thranduil's character I wanted to explore, as well as give you an idea of his relationship with Legolas. Things will get much more exciting very soon. Please enjoy!

Recent edit: I have been told that the word tepid is typically used to describe liquids, but there is a thematic reason for its usage here, one that you will understand as the story progresses.

**Warning: possible nightmares for younger viewers and/or loss of faith in certain elves may occur. Read at your own risk.**

Cover art by yours truly!

_Sindarin Translations_

sîdha- peace

penneth- young one

Ion-nin- my son

saes- please

peredhel- half-elven(Quenya form)

Gi melin- I love you

* * *

Chapter One: Undying Light

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, paced across the hard tepid floors of his chambers.

The burgundy train of his robes sweeping behind him, was swallowed by the silvery fabric of the outer robe; much like the darkness of night is devoured by the purifying light of day. A piece of parchment was clutched in his right hand—a note written in the black speech—maliciously detailing news of another war on the horizon. A war, that remained the sole decision of the Elvenking to counter, if the need arose.

But a heavier weight rested on the Elvenking's shoulders. One that exceeded beyond the line of duty.

Orcs from Dol Guldur were amassing a large army in preparation to march north; their destination unknown and motives unclear. All that was known was that an attack was coming. It had taken a few of his best elven spies and a contingent of soldiers to subdue the threat of the orcs the last time an attack fell upon the Mirkwood realm, but a good outcome of war often depended on a good knowledge base of the enemy. This time, however, Thranduil possessed no such knowledge. He did not know the full force of the army that would march, nor in what strength they would do so. All Thranduil knew was that the future of the realm rested upon _his_ decision to either blindly prepare for a war that may never come to their soil or wait for his spies to gather more information before action was taken.

Thranduil held back a shudder of disgust and deep sorrow as his fingers grazed the dried elven blood that drenched part of the parchment, his stomach churning at the remembrance of the elven messenger's—his kin's—mangled body slumped lifelessly over a panting steed—a Morgul shaft bearing a note speared through its center protruding from the elf's chest.

At the time, Thranduil had not been able to suppress a wince as his fingers brushed against the elf's lifeless and raw flesh; a whisper of the agony endured still radiating from within the shattered pieces of the elf's soul which had been brutally torn apart by a pain beyond imagining.

So profound was his grief, that for the first time since his wife's passing, the Elvenking had wept.

Elves were immortal beings meant to live on forever, each one counted among the very stars as an undying light that shines upon the world, keeping the forces of darkness at bay. Words did not exist to express the tragedy whenever these lights were extinguished. But times were ever changing and Middle Earth was growing darker and more dangerous as the centuries passed. As such, it was not always possible for all to live forever.

Thranduil had grown to understand this harsh truth since the mantle of King was thrust upon his youthful shoulders, his father's words coming to the forefront of his mind each time he looked upon death.

_You cannot keep everyone safe. Wars must be fought and blood must be spilled to ensure the safety of this realm._

Oropher's words came to be true over the ages and Thranduil learned to accept them, as he must. However, there was still a part of him that fought for life and the preservation of his race at all costs.

From an early age, Thranduil exhibited a strong altruistic nature. He cared, probably much more than he should sometimes. Though death was something that always bereaved and troubled the young prince, unnecessary death being a wasteful sin that served no purpose in his eyes. Because of this, whenever his kin met their end this way, Thranduil always felt a pang of deep loss stab at his heart, no matter how he tried to console himself on the decision. Even more bitter was his grief for those who had to endure much suffering before they found peace. If Oropher had felt the loss as heavily Thranduil still did not know, for he had not been the kind of man to share his feelings openly with others. Not even with his son.

"The son becomes the father," Thranduil muttered quietly to himself, eyes darting about the empty room where he currently resided. He was grieving in solitude, just as he suspected his own father of doing. But even so, Thranduil could hardly imagine Oropher grieving to the extent that he had.. or even close to it.

After the mangled body of the elven soldier was taken away for burial, the Elvenking returned to his chambers with an aching heart, eyes burning with tears stubbornly kept at bay. But the restraint did not last long. The weight of emotion, soon became too much to bear and the damn that had imprisoned his deepest emotions cracked in two. For several hours secluded in his chambers, Thranduil grieved and wept for his soldier, his charge, his kin who had been so brutally ripped away from the life he could have had.

Was it wrong to do so? Would it make him seem weak or vulnerable in the eyes of his people if they heard their king expressing such emotion? Oropher certainly seemed to think so, but Thranduil did not. As far as he was concerned, expressing grief was not something to be ashamed of no matter one's station and it did not make one weak or vulnerable, but instead, it showed a caring heart; something that should never be hidden away but brought into the light.

Thranduil remembered a time when he showed this part of himself, openly and without fear of ridicule. His mother had told him that his caring heart was one of his finest qualities and would serve him well, especially if he ever became king. However, his father cautioned of the dangers of a king that ruled with the heart instead of the head, wanting strength alone to be the primary attribute.

For a while, Thranduil tried to conform to his father's vision of a perfect king, he really tried. But it never felt natural.

* * *

_As swiftly as a candle was blown out, Oropher watched the fire in his son's eyes disappear, leaving behind a gaze colder than stone. From then on the prince's actions became devoid of passion, even when they weren't among the public. _

_Faced with no other recourse, Oropher allowed his son the freedom to choose what sort of king he wanted to be._

_Many years passed and war, once again, lashed their lands and decimated all that was good, taking with it the Mirkwood king in its wake. In congruence with the law, the mantle descended with all its weight onto the shoulders of the next of kin, King Thranduil Oropherion. The elf in question was not yet a man and lacked almost all the necessary political knowhow and training. However, there was one important thing that the new king of the woodland realm had mastered to a fine degree. Manipulation._

_Early on, Thranduil taught himself to suppress his innermost emotions beneath an exterior of power and shrewd judgment. Beyond these, Thranduil thought it useful to exude a small degree of ruthlessness to make it appear as though he were beyond reproach. Often people with these misshapen ideals were given a wide berth by others and watched, which was exactly what Thranduil wanted; for people to be so busy watching him that they did not notice the king's watchful eye tracking their movements and sizing up their gall._

_In his deceased father's halls this skill often came in handy, and when the first day neared its end, Thranduil felt the first real swell of pride for proving to himself—if not to his father—that he could rule his way without letting himself be controlled. _

_The indignant glower Oropher gave him from his watchful but silent place above the mantle no longer mattered._

* * *

The Elvenking sighed, the sound much louder in the quiet of the room. Unbidden, a thought formed. _I have allowed my heart to control me and that exterior to briefly fall away this day. What would father think of me now? _The Sinda shook his head, unwilling to go down the road that would only lead to self-deprivation. He was the sole ruler now. He alone was responsible for the welfare of Mirkwood. He ruled with a firm but gentle hand. He laughed. He made merry in the triumphs of his kingdom and grieved the hardships of his people. And he was proud of it.

He was the Elvenking.

Thranduil allowed a smug smirk to pass his lips briefly, before sensing what he held.

The parchment felt worse than contemptible now, his very being utterly repulsed to touch up the darkness of the foul tongue another second. Fists clenching tightly around it, his eyes closed briefly before a fire burned in them, a fire of redemption and preservation that nearly equaled that of the brilliant flames of the hearth as he cast it into the inferno, numbly observing as the mix of acidic words and elven blood were consumed, the fire hissing and crackling as it toiled. The acrid stench produced permeated the chambers like an inescapable fog of death and made the king's lungs and throat burn despite the balcony doors being wide open, but there he stayed, forcing himself to remain until every trace of the evil burned away. Only when the parchment turned to ashes did its dark hold over the room end.

Wasting no time, Thranduil stepped out onto the balcony. He breathed in deeply, allowing the cool night air purge his lungs as he took in the privileged view.

The large expanse of his kingdom stretched several leagues past the line of trees, the night coloring them a deep shade of green and the moonlight dancing across the sullen leaves to give the illusion of health. Though, all that really stood there were mere dead husks protecting and shielding their borders, their spirits in a deep sleep. The still-green tress that lined the perimeter of the palace were untouched, untainted by the vile darkness consuming its own, though not unaware of it.

Mirkwood was strong, and yet, in need of so much guidance. Much like an adolescent, Thranduil mused, before directing his gaze elsewhere. His eyes soon landed on the cobblestone pathways that weaved through the villages. The normal din of daily activities no longer filled the streets, nor did candle light flicker from the windows of the houses.

Mirkwood was at rest.

And for a split second, perhaps less, Thranduil felt at peace. At least, before the crushing weight of reality fell back onto his shoulders, that is. War was coming. No matter how tranquil things may seem now it would not be for much longer. Thranduil was certain of this.

Noticing the constricting of his chest had eased to a bearable level, the Elvenking spun around to head back inside. A strong breeze blew past, effortlessly lifting a few strands of his silvery hair off his shoulders. Though slightly surprised by the sudden show of nature, Thranduil did not slow his pace until he reached his chambers.

But something was different. The room was.. lighter somehow.

Thranduil knew he had felt the cloying darkness there only a few moments ago. It had choked his spirit and made it hard to breathe in a way that smoke never could. So why then was his chambers suddenly free of it?

It was then that the incident on the balcony came back to him. The strong gust of wind had almost succeeded in causing the Elvenking's solid stance to waver as it blew past, so perhaps it was also capable of taking with it the last foul traces of smoke and darkness from his chambers. Yes, that was entirely possible.

Sending a quick prayer of thanks to whatever force was responsible for the small miracle, Thranduil marched over to his private study and settled down in the leather chair. The life taken that day had been a provocation, something to get his attention and at the same time, prove that Mirkwood was not untouchable and nothing could prevent the orcs from invading their lands and slaughtering their kin. Well, as long as the King of the Woodland realm drew breath, that was not going to happen.

As if motivated by an unconscious will to solidify and fulfill this promise, Thranduil worked the rest of the evening and late into the night, turning over every stone of information within his reach until none were left unturned. When finished, the elf's body felt no strain from the position it had held for several hours, but his mind was another story.

The Elvenking sighed heavily, slumping back into the chair, hands going to his head to massage his temples.

It was one thing to hear petitions of his people for many hours, but it was another to come to his study and try to solve problems that had no apparent solution no matter how many times he stripped them bare and dissected their pieces.

Resigning himself to the harsh truth that no further progress would be made that night, Thranduil tidied his desk and reluctantly rose from it, heading to his bed.

He eyed the pillow and soft mattress, eager to leave the stresses of the day behind, while deft fingers worked the clasp of his belt and removed his shoes, neatly placing them in the closet next to the others. For that was how it felt; as if his hands were working independently of the body.

Not yet satisfied with his state of undress, Thranduil worked the fastenings of his sword. His hands stilled.

This was the third consecutive week spent shut away in the office or in meetings. Granted, these days were not completely devoid of his son's company, but just bidding his child good night did not suffice to spending quality time with Legolas anymore. Thranduil missed his melodious laughter and energetic presence, even answering the numerous questions Legolas asked. Aye, he missed his son terribly. Surely the feelings were mutual?

Thranduil made a move for the door, glimpsing the fully darkened sky through the open balcony as he did so. It was now the middle of the night. By now, Legolas was surely walking in elven dreams and to wake him now wouldn't be the best idea.

Thranduil stood there a moment longer, regretfully staring up at the twinkling stars with a hard gaze that was seemingly trying to melt away the night into day, before glancing at the bed once more.

"No. I cannot sleep now," he chided himself firmly. "I cannot sleep without knowing my son is alright." But does that make it right to disturb his sleep just for my own peace of mind? Thranduil's paternal instincts continued to tug at his heart, and in the end, he decided that a feather-light peck on the cheek would not do any harm.

Decision made, Thranduil left his chambers.

* * *

**Author's note: Well, that's the first chapter of the first LOTR story I have ever published! Feel free to tell me what you liked or disliked about it :D I am a fairly new writer in this fandom and I would love to hear from you! I'm also not opposed to criticism if it helps me to sculpt this story the right way, so please keep this in mind. **


	2. Chapter 2: A Voice in the Darkness

**Author's note (Last longish one, I promise): The chapter you are about to read was originally part of the first one, but since this is the first and only LOTR story I have posted here, I wanted chapter one to be just long enough to enjoy but short enough to allow for only a small glimpse into the character development and plot without giving too much away. Lastly, I also want you fellow readers and writers, to know that the rest of this story has been written and tweaked over a period of almost 3 years(not the entirety of the time, but a good portion). I just couldn't get things to fall into place where I wanted them. However, for the most part, I am satisfied with it.**

**A big thank you to all who followed and favorited the last chapter! You are loved :D And a shout-out to everybody who took the time to review the last chapter: **Legolass**, and distinguished writer, **Raider-K**.** **Thank you ever so much for giving this humble story your attention and for giving me the encouragement to keep going when I felt like giving up. **

**For those of you who haven't heard of Raider, do look her up! I am just loving her story, Kingsfoil and chances are, you will too if you enjoy smoldering Elvenking's and an unexpected romance. Oh, and did I mention there are dwarves? I guess you're going to have to read it to find out how that all ties in ;)**

**This is "the deep breath before the plunge." (shameless Gandalf quote there XD) Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Two: A Voice in the Darkness

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

The Elvenking walked quietly down the corridor that separated his son's chambers from his own. Beams of moonlight bathed the floors and lighted his path eerily, further increasing his anxiety.

The guards acknowledged their king's presence when he arrived in front of the large double doors, but Thranduil silenced any questions, preferring not to explain himself. So taking a deep breath for good measure, he hesitantly raised up a hand to knock. Distressed moans and grunts stayed his fist.

No doubt about it, Legolas was having a nightmare.

The fourth one that week, which the king knew of from the reports of the guards stationed outside his son's room. This was not normally protocol, but the growing darkness near their home often affected his son's dreams in terrible ways. And since Thranduil could not often be with his child that week, he had his guards watch over the elfling, giving them specific instruction on how to wake Legolas from his dreams if need be.

Legolas was mostly a pleasant child to be around, or so the guards had said. They had quickly warmed up to the elfling, confessing to their king it was no chore but an honor and privilege to serve him. One time, Thranduil even caught one of them telling his son a bedtime story, sending a spark of both jealousy and pain through his paternal heart. More than anything, he wished that he did not have to place his son into their care so predominantly. But with his busy schedule at present, he couldn't exactly rush to his son's side every time he had trouble falling asleep from nightmares, no matter how much he wanted to. At least, this way Legolas was never left in frightening dreams for too long. Thranduil did, however, make time to attend to him when the nightmares became too much to bear.

A blood-curdling scream rended the air, ripping Thranduil from his thoughts.

Blood turning to ice in his veins and his heart thundering in his ears, the Elvenking tore open both doors to his son's chambers, only vaguely hearing the guards quick footsteps behind him over the frantic pounding of his chest.

The room was dark, only small shards of moonlight streaming into the room from the window adjacent to the bed. But it was enough for the keen eyes of the Elvenking to find his son…not held at sword point as he had feared, not bleeding out on the ground as he had dreaded…

No, Legolas, his very much alive son, lay safe in his bed.

Thranduil expelled all the air in his lungs, taking in one deep and slow breath. Though it was obviously not a restful sleep, the sight of his son perfectly safe and whole nearly caused his legs give out in relief. In fact, if his guards were not with him he may have done just that. As it was, Thranduil heard their collective sighs of relief behind him and reminded himself to be gentle with his next words.

He spoke in a mild tone, without turning around. "Both of you may go, I will stay here with him."

Though delivered gently, the guards heard the order behind the soft-spoken words and bowed formally before leaving the room with haste. The Elvenking intended on having Legolas all to himself. Promising not to wear himself thin for much longer, Thranduil moved closer to the bed, his long legs easily crossing the distance in three strides. However, he was far from prepared for what he would see.

Legolas, his Greenleaf, his child, lay on the bed, a thick sheen of sweat drenching his brow as he writhed as an elf possessed, body tangled and hands so tightly clenched onto the surrounding sheet that they trembled from the strain.

With speed only the First Born could posses, Thranduil rushed over to his son, pressing a hand to his chest. His eyes widened in alarm as he felt the boy's heart pounding frantically under his palm. The pace of an elflings heartbeat was often used to determine the nature of such dreams, and the pace of his son's denoted terror. Utter terror, if he was being honest, and it terrified him.

Reminding himself that he needed to calm his own raging spirit in order for the next step to work, Thranduil took in a breath and let it out as slowly as he dared. Feeling some semblance of composure but no less, he extended his senses until he felt his son's life energy connect with his own.

It was like being swept off a calm shore by a tumulus wave and thrown into a churning ocean of energy. Everything moved so fast, the rhythm indiscernible because of such terrible speed. It took all the concentration he had just to stay within the energy and not be forcefully thrown from his son's soul, which would undoubtedly hurt. But Thranduil cared little for himself. Legolas's fëa was in severe distress, which meant that this nightmare had the power to damage it if he did not wake soon. Moreover, because of this extreme state, his son's energy could not be calmed or guided without doing so naturally or he would risk harming him.

That fact alone made the Elvenking pull his hand away from the surety of feeling the strong pounding of Legolas's life-force beneath his fingers. Strong. Thank the Valor it is or I would have lost him by now, he thought. Though it was done carefully, Thranduil had to stop himself from involuntarily taking a step back as his energy slammed back into his own body. Wincing at the momentary pain, the Elven King took a few steadying breaths before giving his son's shoulder a gentle shake.

"Legolas, you must wake up, ion-nin. Follow the sound of my voice and return to me," he whispered softly.

Receiving no response, Thranduil's voice rose in volume and increased in force. "Legolas!" He frowned and shook him a little harder, lightly slapping the boy on the cheek a few times and speaking even louder. "Legolas, you must awaken!"

But unresponsive, he remained.

Finally, frustration and fear winning over, the Elvenking shouted at the boy as loud as he dared and shook him awake with as much force as he could without harming him.

"NO! saes! Help me, Ada!"

The color drained from Thranduil's face, Legolas's whimpered plea gripping something deep within him. Convinced that the previous method of waking him would fail, Thranduil frantically searched around the room for anything he could use to wake him. His heart skipped a beat when he spied a bowl of water lying on the bedside table, and without wasting a second, he rushed to it, lowering a few fingers to test the temperature.

The Elvenking cringed as he submerged his fingers into the frigid water, yanking them out soon after. Surely this was too cruel.

The time for debating the morality of what he was about to do, flew out the window when another blood-curdling scream broke forth from his son, and without hesitation he dumped the entire contents of the bowl over him, murmuring a plea of forgiveness as he did so.

Legolas awakened with a sharp gasp, jolting upwards and screaming and kicking for all that he was worth. Careful to avoid his son's flailing limbs, Thranduil sat down beside him and immediately let out all of his inner light, tremendously brightening the room. Then, weaving his way past the boy's arms, he gently pressed his hand against Legolas's pounding heart, sending him some of his own energy to calm the young one's raging spirit now that he was able to accept it.

"Sîdha, Legolas. You will not be harmed any more, it was just a bad dream. You dwell in darkness, no more," he said gently, staring into the dim, unfocused eyes of his son.

It took some time, but eventually the screams morphed into shouts and yells, soon after breaking into loud sobs that were pained enough to almost physically hurt Thranduil as he struggled to calm his son. For the longest time, nothing else happened. Time itself seemed at a standstill. Then, bit by bit, Legolas came back to him, first noticing the bright room with a look of confusion and wonder and then the face staring down at him.

"….Ada?"

The word was spoken so quietly that the Elvenking was unsure that he even heard it at all. All the same, Thranduil tore open his robes and wrapped them around his son's trembling form, pressing him against his bare chest to help warm him. "Hush… Ada is here," he crooned, tenderly stroking his golden hair and rubbing his skin to help warm it. "You are safe." He preferred stripping Legolas of the soaked tunic first, but judging by the iron grip on his torso, Legolas would not welcome the action in the least. For now, their combined body heat was going to have to be do.

Thranduil leaned down and whispered calming elvish in his son's ear, pushing more calming energy through their bond.

Legolas gripped his father tightly, breath coming in heaves and broken by choked sobs as he trembled in his arms. "Why d-didn't you come when I c-called you?" he whined.

Thranduil's breath was unexpectedly stolen, overwhelmed by the question. Had Legolas tried to call him? Had he screamed for him? Was this his fault? The guilt nearly ate him alive until Legolas said, "Why didn't you fight harder to get to me?" Understanding shined in the king's eyes at that moment. Legolas was referring to his nightmare, and not for the first time, the dream version of himself had not saved his son from whatever horrible fate awaited him. Well, Thranduil was determined to pull his son back to reality and show him the difference between the two.

"Ion-nin," he began, voice velvety smooth. "That was not me you saw in your dream, only a poor representation. If anything were ever to threaten you nothing in all of Middle Earth would ever stand in the way of me protecting you. Nothing. What happened was not real. You had a nightmare, but you are awake now and safe in my arms. Feel them around you now, holding you with love and protecting you. Gi melin, Legolas."

Legolas clung tighter to his father at these words and cried, the trembles greatly lessened but still there. Thranduil hummed and gently rocked his child back and forth—just as he did when Legolas was an infant—a few tears falling down his cheeks as his heart bled for him. Oh, what he would have given to have the ability to transport himself inside Legolas's dreams and protect him from all harm. But that was impossible, no matter how much he wished for it. Just like he would not always be there to protect his 400-year-old son when the day came to take up arms and defend their Home against the encroaching darkness.

No matter how hard his kin fought and railed against it, Middle earth was swiftly becoming more dangerous as the centuries passed. Legolas seemed to grow at an equal rate, which Thranduil found strange but not enough to do anything more than make inquiries about it from the Lady of Light. As expected, she told him nothing. Whether her silence stemmed from an empty tongue or a willingness to keep it from wagging, he did not know. What he did know was that his son would soon fight for their Kingdom, and that was already too much to take. Having trained from a young age himself, Thranduil recognized the signs of a budding-warrior-to-be in his own son; how his eyes would sparkle when regaled with tales of battle, or the longing and excitement in his eyes when he beheld the training ground for the first time. Legolas already showed great promise as a warrior even at such a young age, and it was clear to many in the realm that he respected and loved his craft dearly. Though a bitter truth to swallow, Thranduil knew no matter how much he wanted his feet to stay firmly planted inside the walls of his kingdom—by his side—to forever remain out of harm's way, he could not make him. Legolas was too much of a free spirit and it would surely kill that spirit to be caged inside walls of stone; made to handle trade delegations instead of climbing trees, or working through pounds and pounds and pounds of paperwork with his father when he would rather be with his friends. Thranduil himself was still partially adjusting to the paperwork part of the job, and he did not wish for Legolas to bare the burden of cramped hands and sprained wrists just yet. For now, Legolas would be who he wanted to be, and Thranduil would have to be content with watching and waiting.

The Elvenking shook his head at the tangent his thoughts took, focusing on Legolas once more. Thankfully, his harsh and ragged breathing had slowed and his shaking diminished to only a slight tremble, soft cries passing his lips instead of screams as he clung tighter to his father. However, despite Thranduil's own body heat and the warm robes around his son Legolas was still very wet and cold.

Thranduil's brow creased, worry and guilt plaguing him as he soothingly kneaded his fingers through his son's hair and rubbed his back, continuing to hum as more salty tears soaked his robes.

Through the ministrations, he thought of alternatives to get his temperature up. Two, to be precise; a bath and a change of clothes. While a hot bath would warm him, the Sinda knew it may also terrify and send Legolas into another fit of panic. That left a change of clothes, but Thranduil felt more than knew why it would do little good. Dry clothes were not the only problem, rather, it was also the water he had poured on Legolas that had all but soaked the bed, and most likely, that same icy cold had seeped into his son's bones. The puddle that Thranduil currently sat on was beginning to feel uncomfortable even with the strength of his fully developed hröar, so he could only speculate how his underage son felt being drenched in the glacial wat-

A knock at the door stifled his thought process.

Thranduil spoke in a clipped voice. "Enter."

The door swung open and a guard stepped into the room with heavy footfalls.. at least, heavier than usual, which meant the news was troubling. Thranduil listened intently for the message, but all that reached his ears was a faint gasp. Curious, he turned his attention to the guard now standing in the doorway, staring.. well, in awe at him.

"Did you come to stare at your king, or is there another reason for your visit?" Thranduil questioned dryly.

Wilting slightly under the gaze, the guard spoke. "I apologize for staring my lord, it is just… I have never seen you so... so bright," he breathed. "There was really no need-"

"I did not do it for you," Thranduil replied levelly, cutting him off. "Speak your message."

The guard nodded sheepishly. "Yes, of course. One of the guests urgently wishes to speak with you."

Thranduil arched a brow in disbelief. "At this late hour? I was under the impression that the needs of our guests were taken care of. Was this not done?"

"No, sire, it was done just as you ordered."

Thranduil inhaled through his nose, patience wearing thin.

If all his guests were taken care of why then was someone outside the door urgently wanting an audience with the king in the middle of the night? Something did not add up.

"Tell me their name," Thranduil asked, trying to keep the impatience from coloring his tone.

"It is their wish that their identity remain a secret," the guard responded meekly, clearly uncomfortable with sharing the news.

Thranduil scoffed. "I do not care what they wish. Tell whomever it is that I will not be disturbed until morning, they can have their audience then."

Honestly, it was surprising that his guard did not just send the stranger on their way. But they hadn't. Perhaps it was because they were no stranger, Thranduil mused, and decided the matter would worth be looking into at a later time. Legolas came first.

The guard spoke again, more boldly. "I was told to inform you if all other attempts failed that it regards the safety of your son."

A dozen emotions played across the king's face, most of which were well-masked until only a worried frown remained. He birthed a response. "Very well, send them in."

The guard left and a moment later, the door opened once again, allowing the mystery stranger entrance, even as the room dimmed.

Thranduil barely heard the lightest of footsteps approaching them. Light, far too light if urgent tidings spurned their arrival, he deduced. In the back of his mind, he entertained the possibility that his guards may have mistakenly allowed an intruder that was disguising his true intentions past their defenses, but squashed that idea before it grew to fruition. No, the chances of this were slim. They were, after all, commissioned by the Elvenking. And his father was scarcely known to make mistakes when it came to security.

Still, it was best to be cautious.

Stiffening, Thranduil further dimmed his inner glow until it was nearly indiscernible, even in the darkness. The grip on his son tightened instinctively and he shifted his body to hide Legolas from view. For precaution's sake, the elven king reached for the hilt of his sword.

It was not there.

It was then that Thranduil remembered foolishly leaving it on his bed. Mentally kicking himself for his stupidity, Thranduil reached down and pulled a cleverly hidden dagger from his boot. Well, it wasn't a sword, but at least it was something.

"You will go no further until you tell me who you are and who sent you," Thranduil demanded tonelessly, brandishing the blade.

The footsteps ceased and a familiar but disembodied voice spoke. "Lord Elrond. I was sent by no one but came of my own accord."

Thranduil released an inaudible relieved breath, his shoulders relaxing. Of course, he should have known that no one but the Imladrian lord could have made the near-undetectable entrance. But the Noldor would pay for worrying him like that.

Now more at ease, Thranduil sheathed the dagger, giving permission to come forward. He did not ask the reason for the visit, nor did not have to. If the master healer paid them a visit at that late hour then it could only be for one thing: one of them either needed medical treatment or medical advice. Though it was the duty of the royal healers to look after their king and prince, Elrond often assisted whenever he visited to make sure the King and Prince were getting the best possible care. Those visits rarely happened in the middle of the night though.

Thranduil's mind was on his son as he anxiously awaited the news. He watched Elrond cross the distance between them in several long strides and bend down to hover a hand over Legolas's still form. His son's eyes were open but unseeing; a sure sign that he was dreaming. His poor little leaf had exhausted himself.

Suddenly, a shrill scream sliced the air, the abrupt sound startling the two almost as efficiently as a Nazgul's shriek and simultaneously sending the guards rushing into the room as if one had.

"Legolas, it's only Elrond," Thranduil explained morosely, sharing a confused look with the peredhel, whom he noticed was speaking with the guards. No doubt informing them that their services were unneeded. One of the said guards glanced at his king to make certain they were indeed not needed, and Thranduil gave silent confirmation, focusing on his son again. He didn't even hear the doors close as they left, too invested in Legolas's wellbeing to notice much else.

"Legolas, why did you scream, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked his son. But he paid his father no heed, eyes locked on the dark-haired elf.

Elrond, noticing the boy's frightened eyes were trained on his own, held up his hands non-threateningly. "There is no reason to fear me, my child. I will not harm you." The healer drew closer in an attempt to comfort the elfling, but Legolas fearfully buried his face into his father's robes, causing the elf lord to stop.

"Don't let him hurt me, Ada!" Legolas pleaded desperately, gripping onto his father's arm as if it were a branch keeping him afloat in a violent river.

_Hurt you? why would…_ Thranduil saw the tremendous fear in his son's pleading blue eyes. He sighed wearily, confused but still unwilling for any more fear to touch him.

"Whatever warnings you have come to usher, speak them from where you stand and then leave us," Thranduil told the peredhel, all the while rubbing Legolas's back soothingly.

Elrond nodded in assent. "Very well. My advice to you is this: before the night is spent you must make absolutely certain Legolas is still whole."

Thranduil schooled his expression to a neutral one, speaking simply so as to not clue Legolas in on the subject matter. "Tell me why you suspect this?"

"I do not suspect, but it is safer to take precautions in case it is," Elrond replied vehemently, using the same cryptic wording.

Legolas shifted in his arms, officially signally the end of the conversation. And the Elvenking was glad of it. He did not let this show outwardly though. Instead, Thranduil inclined his head regally, a gesture that conveyed respect and gratitude. Whatever his qualms with the healer, Elrond had after all come to him in the middle of the night to give him this news without being ordered. It was the least the elf lord deserved.

"I will do what you advise," Thranduil agreed reluctantly, watching the peredhel leave as swiftly as he had come.

Instead of feeling relieved at the unlikely prognosis, the Elvenking's mind was uneasy. How dare that stuffy Noldor presume that his son was damaged! The half-elf clearly did not know the resilience and strength of the First Born. Legolas was strong, far stronger than the king had been at his age. Thranduil was very much adamant in his belief that Elrond was reading too much into what was only a nightmare. A nightmare would not cause such severe harm, he was sure of it. Still, while the Elvenking doubted his son was damaged in that terrible way, Legolas's harsh and odd reaction towards the healer was most concerning and raised many questions in the Sinda's mind, causing him to find logical weight in the peredhel's words. What if they were true? Could they be true?

Legolas sharply inhaled against his father's chest, piercing the silence like a knife and, once again, pulling the Elvenking abruptly from his thoughts.

"Have the memories returned?"

A noncommittal hum was the response and Thranduil lifted Legolas' little chin toward his waiting gaze, speaking softly. "Would you like to sleep with me tonight?" There was no other option, really; the boy's bed was soaked. But Thranduil still wanted him to have the freedom to make the choice. Too much of Legolas's will had been stolen from him already.

Legolas forced out a choked 'yes' and Thranduil stood up with the elfling enfolded in his arms, grabbing a fresh tunic before departing from his son's chambers.

The Elvenking's bright, but slightly dimmed visage, illuminated his own chambers with a soft glow as he moved about the room. He dressed his son in the fresh dry tunic before settling him down in his bed, pulling the sheet and a thick blanket over him and placing a kiss to his forehead. After making sure his son was the most comfortable he could be Thranduil then set to making the room as warm as it could be; locking the balcony doors in case a cold breeze blew them open and lighting the hearth to chase out the chill that had settled in the room.

Certain that the room would now remain warm, the king quickly changed into his own night clothes and slid into bed next to his son, gathering the little elfling into his arms again, which received a small smile.

"Are you warmer now?" Thranduil asked softly.

"Yes," Legolas answered sleepily. He spoke again, only this time with a slight tremble. "Ada, I'm afraid to go back to sleep."

Thranduil wiped away the tear that fell down Legolas's cheek. "Legolas, I have told you that elves do not dream the same dream twice. You need not fear experiencing it again."

"I know, but what if I have a different dream about something worse?" Legolas countered.

Thranduil met his gaze with a strong, unmoving one of his own.

"No more nightmares should visit you while you remain with me. I make them quiver in fear and they dare not approach unless they want to deal with the big bad scary Elvenking!" But if more come I will do my best to wake you and save you from it. Hopefully without giving you hypothermia this time.

Legolas laughed musically, smiling. "You're funny, ada and make me less scared."

Thranduil's lips twitched and he smiled back softly. "I'm glad of that."

A pause. "Ada?"

"Yes, what is it my Greenleaf?"

"Thank you."

Thranduil felt a weight lift from his heavy heart at this, but before he could respond to inquire what his son meant by the vague expression of gratitude, the little elfling's breaths evened out and the taught hand on his clothing relaxed. Thranduil kissed his son's temple. "Valar, guide him to pleasant dreams this night," he whispered.

Elves fortunately never dreamed the same dream twice; a fact that the Elvenking never truly considered before tonight but was eternally grateful existed as he laid his own head down.

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**Author's note: Well, what do you think? Will the night be uneventful? Is lord Elrond just a stuffy elf? Feel free to review with your opinion, and follow and favorite this story if you believe it is deserving. On a separate note, I recently included a warning in chapter one, so please, go and read it because it may apply to the next chapters coming up.**


	3. Chapter 3: Trust

**Author's note: Another week has passed and you get chapter three. I know it's coming to you late, but I was got home late yesterday and didn't have time to upload before midnight hit. I added some new content to this chapter and broke it apart from the next because it changed the flow in a really noticeable way if I didn't. But on the bright side, now you get another sweet father and son moment!**

**A big thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter:** Lady Aurelia**,** AraneltheSilvan**,** pineapple-pancake**,** **multiple guests (who art thou?), and last but not least,** Raider-K. **Thank you so much! All of you are my inspiration and motivation, and this includes those of you who favorite and follow as well. You're awesome!**

* * *

Chapter Three: Trust

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

The sensation of light tapping on his arm brought the Elvenking to awareness. Crawling back from the depths of partial sleep, Thranduil sluggishly blinked and then glanced down at his son's face, noticing the worry there.

"Legolas, what is wrong? Why are you not asleep?" he asked, now more alert.

"I feel strange," Legolas replied, with a yawn.

Thranduil frowned, even more, alert. "Describe to me where."

"Here."

Thranduil watched his son point to his heart and at that moment the elf was wide awake, inwardly shuddering at the implications. However, it was imperative to be absolutely sure.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he spoke. "What does it feel like?"

"It burns a little," Legolas replied, rubbing the area.

Thranduil's stomach twisted into a knot. It couldn't be that. Elrond could not be right. Or could he? Perhaps an examination would prove insightful.

Making sure he held his son's attention, he spoke. "Legolas, do you know what a fëa is?"

"Yes, it's an elven soul," Legolas replied quickly.

"Good. And do you know what happens when it gets damaged?" Thranduil asked, gauging his son's reactions carefully.

Legolas tried to recall his instruction on the topic, smiling proudly when an answer came. "It needs to be healed by another..."

A moment of realization crossed the small elf's features and he raised worried blue eyes to his father's. "Ada, is my fëa… damaged?" Legolas asked, fearful of what that entailed.

Thranduil smiled inwardly at the wit of his son, but outwardly a frown was the prominent expression at the moment. "I am afraid so, my Greenleaf," the king replied solemnly.

But as usual with the active imaginations of elflings, another, more terrible idea came to the mind of the prince.

Legolas bolted upright, eyes wide with horror. "Ada, I do not want to turn into an Orc!"

The Elvenking's eyebrows flew upward in complete surprise. "WHAT?... where did you get such an utterly ridiculous idea?" he questioned in a quieter voice, remembering it was very late.

Legolas stared guiltily at his lap. "They told me not to tell."

"Who told you?" Thranduil asked, concern ebbing at the edges of his voice.

Legolas shook his head. "I cannot tell you. We swore on our pinkies and they said if I told they would take my pinky from me, just like they took my nose!"

Thranduil shook his head at the audacity of it all, though warmth sparked within his chest as Legolas hovered a finger a good distance from where his nose would normally be.

"Legolas, you still have your nose," he said, mildly amused.

Legolas nodded. "I know, because they gave it back. But they said they would never give back my pinky! Never!" the elfling exclaimed.

Thranduil held back a sigh. This examination had to be done sooner rather than later, but due to this unforeseen event it was now imperative to know the extent of what his son was sworn to secrecy for.

"Legolas, have I ever lied to you?" Thranduil asked simply, his tone honestly inquisitive and hinting at no hidden motive.

Legolas thought about it and then replied, "No."

"Then trust me when I say that the threat of taking your pinky was only a bluff meant to frighten you into submission. Nothing will happen to you or any of your fingers if you tell me the truth. I promise," Thranduil replied earnestly, tapping his son once on the nose for good measure.

Legolas was silent for a time. Could he really believe that no repercussions would come of this if he told his ada the truth? The prince very much doubted it. Of course his father would do everything in his power to prevent it from happening, but he was often busy and not around when the prince was targeted, which is how these things occurred in the first place. Surely he would be safe if he remained within the halls of the palace until the threat passed?

Gaining the courage needed, but still not entirely at ease, Legolas spoke in the smallest of voices.

"Okay… Elladan and Elrohir-"

"Wait," Thranduil interrupted, visibly perturbed at the possibilities. "Legolas, you did not tell me that those two are responsible. What lies have they fed you this time?"

"They told me that orcs used to be elves until their souls and bodies were broken by tor- a bad thing," Legolas corrected. But it was too late.

The Elvenking's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment Legolas thought his ada would inquire about another aspect of the information he gave. But then his father's eyes betrayed the anger swelling inside him. It seemed ancient and deadly, holding a power that Legolas could almost feel penetrating his own body as he stared transfixed, unable to move or utter any word, and in that moment, perhaps more-he couldn't be sure, Legolas felt very afraid of his father. Then, gradually, the eyes softened and kindness chased away the darkness that had settled into their blue-grey depths, focusing on Legolas once more with a sadness the elfling had only seen once, before vanishing.

Not thinking much of this, Legolas continued speaking.

"A… bad thing happened to me, which means I WILL TURN INTO AN UGLY ORC!" he cried, swinging his arms chaotically through the air. "I don't want to be an orc, I don't want to be—"

"Legolas!" Thranduil exclaimed, and caught both arms, causing the distressed elfling to cease his outburst and focus expectantly on him.

Thranduil's tone softened but remained somewhat firm. "You will not turn into an orc, I promise. It takes much more… mistreatment to do that," the king said, not wanting to delve into the gruesome subject in the least. "The twins should not have told you such a thing at your age and I will be speaking to their ada about a sufficient punishment for them."

Legolas still didn't want to believe it but something in his father's voice compelled him to do just that. He nodded once, though a question kept begging to be voiced.

"What will I turn into?"

"Nothing. You will stay exactly as you are," Thranduil replied.

"Not even my hair and teeth will fall out?" Legolas asked worriedly.

Thranduil curbed back his anger for the twin menaces, barely managing a convincing smile of reassurance. "Not even that."

Legolas closed his eyes, heaving a big sigh of relief. "That's good, I do not want to turn into-"

The elfling hissed, clutching his chest as pain assailed him.

"Ada... what's happening to me?" Legolas ground out between clenched teeth. "Why does it burn more?"

Thranduil took his son's hand into his own, wordlessly conveying to squeeze as hard as he needed. "It is caused by the damage to your fëa, my son. It will pass quickly," he assured.

Legolas gently squeezed it until the pain thankfully went away a few moments later.

Once the grip on his hand relaxed, Thranduil spoke, tenderly stroking a thumb over the tops of his son's fingers. "Ion-nin, we cannot wait much longer to heal you or the pain will worsen."

"What are you going to do?" Legolas asked, more cautiously than questioningly.

Thranduil shook his head mournfully. "I am afraid I cannot help you this time, Legolas. I am out of practice when it comes to healing such as this. But I will be right by your side as a healer cares for you."

Legolas felt pure fear return upon the mention of a healer and scrambled for the words to change his father's mind.

But none would come. In times such as these the prince had been told to convey his thoughts as simply as possible, but this time not even simple descriptions came to mind, only misery and torment. Worse still, was the bedroom. What was normally a place of safety to the young prince was becoming more and more like a prison, no longer calming him but a reminder of everything Legolas was trying to escape; the air humid and suffocating, squeezing his lungs until each breath became laborious.

Finally, the prince could take no more and pulled—more like threw—back the purple duvet and jumped out of bed, running to the door of the balcony. He had to get away-to get some fresh air. Then he would feel better.

Thranduil did nothing to stop him. Instead, he watched his son reach for the knob and hesitate only briefly before pulling the door open and stepping through without closing it after himself. This was not simply a lapse of memory, rather; it was The Elvenking's signal that Legolas wanted him to follow.

Once free off the confining chambers, Legolas took pensive steps toward the railing.

This was not the safest place for an elfing to be, especially since it was the middle of the night. But fortunately the moon cast enough light to see by, allowing him to reach the guard railing with relative ease. The cold air made it difficult to do breath. Very cold. A frost was coming, one that would leave a lot of snow for all kinds of fun activities like building snowmen or sliding down steep hills on curved metal sheets. Legolas found he did not care. He didn't care about much of anything anymore. All that went through his mind was falling to his death. At this thought, Legolas clung tighter to the railing. The Elvenking possessed the only balcony for a reason. At first, Legolas had argued with this, wanting to watch the stars and the sun rise without having to go outside or peek through a small window. But then Thranduil promised to install one for him son within the next hundred years when Legolas grew a bit more. Legolas did not like it, but he soon learned to be content with using his father's for the time being whenever he was allowed. Though, in retrospect, Legolas could not remember why he wanted one in the first place. They were terrifying things that served no purpose other than making people slip off them and die. He did not need yet another thing to fear right now.

A shiver.

Not for the first time, Legolas wished he could be like his ada and withstand the cold. It was an awful feeling being cold, to feel little bumps forming on his smooth skin. Deciding to head back in side, Legolas tensed his muscles in preparation, but froze, sensing someone behind him.

The prince sighed, expecting a lecture about the safety of high places in the middle of the night. But when none came, he grew worried. His father was rarely silent when he disobeyed him, usually doling out a reprimand or punishment—which was almost always verbal unless something greatly displeased him. Which meant that it had.

Legolas could take the silence no more and parted his lips to break it. "Are you angry with me?"

In response to this, warm hands softly pressed over his own. The prince did not need to see the beautifully inlaid azure jewel sitting atop the intricate twists of gold to know who's they belonged to, nor hear the calm heartbeat to know that he was forgiven. Legolas stayed silent for a time, relishing the feeling of his father's warm arms around him. The strong emotions of calm and safety seemed to ebb from his father's entire being, settling onto him like a comforting blanket. In fact, if a Ring Wraith suddenly appeared in front of them Legolas was sure he wouldn't feel even the slightest twinge of fear. But all too quickly, the raw strength of his inner turmoil devoured any fragment of peace it found, leaving Legolas with an aching and chilling emptiness that not even the warmth enveloping him could penetrate.

"I do not want a healer," Legolas blurted out, to which Thranduil stilled. "I want you. You always make me better and I know you can do it this time too." Please do not let Lord Elrond do it. Legolas knew his father was not a healer, but he had studied with them enough to pick up a few of their techniques over the years. Surely he could do it.

Thranduil was taken aback. Did Legolas really expect him to heal him? What was wrong with a healer? The royal healers were far more experienced and skilled, whereas, the Elvenking was a mere beginner… edging on intermediate but still very green in the ways of healing unless the task required of him was making herbal droughts, setting dislocated bones, treating minor cuts, or stitching and dressing less severe wounds. He made mistakes. He would make mistakes. Quite possibly many. And mistakes could prove deadly with this type of healing.

But didn't everyone make mistakes? They were only elves, not the Valar, after all.

Dwelling on this thought, Thranduil soon began to doubt the prowess of his royal healers to be enough. Even with all their expertise and experience they too made mistakes. So who did that leave them? No one. No one was perfect. But wasn't there one healer who was almost perfect? The Elvenking both cringed and smiled inwardly when a single name came to mind. Elrond.

Of course, it made perfect sense now. Why have the royal healers do the task when the master healer himself was staying within his halls. But there was still one problem, Thranduil realized. Legolas specifically said he did not want a healer. Whether it was a particularity or want to be near family at this time of vulnerability, was unknown to him. Though, wasn't Elrond- in the farthest sense, like family to his son?

Elrond had known Legolas since he was born and oft' treated him like one of his own, in turn, Legolas looked up to and respected the elf lord. Admittedly, Thranduil's opinion of the half-elf had risen over the years as well. They had their fair share of quarrels, as everyone did, but time after time the peredhel had proven his mettle past all preconceived notions. The Elvenking would even go so far as to say that on some occasions he almost acted the part of a full elf. Almost. Of course, the Elvenking's image of the half-elf had long since been tarnished. There was still that insufferable side of the elf lord that did not yield to authority, and as such, some of his decisions were—by the Elvenking's opinion—foolish and lacking forethought. Such as, swearing off all combat of any kind. While the reason for doing so was admirable, Thranduil still felt that he had lost a brother in arms, if you will, and felt far more alone in his fight against the Shadow than he ever thought possible. That day, the stark remembrance of a retreating shadow painted by the waning firelight, was the day the Elvenking's heart closed off from the peredhel. After which, he received each visit to his realm coldly, paying only the barest heed to anything other than what regarded health or political matters of their two realms. And so it had been ever since. _Until this day, it would seem._

Begrudging the question, Thranduil forced himself to utter the words, ignoring anything holding them back.

"Ion-nin, I know you have asked for my assistance in this matter, though, I do not trust myself to do so without harming you. So I ask of you, would it be alright if lord Elrond heals you this time?"

As if the Elvenking had threatened his son's life and limb, Legolas' whole body began trembling like a leaf beneath his touch, the next words uttered coming out disjointed and shaky, carrying with them an indescribable fear that chilled the king to the bone.

Legolas faced his father squarely, his eyes dark. "Please.. don't let him do it. I beg of you, father!"

Thranduil frowned, not expecting those words in the least. It was true that Legolas had been terrified of the healer. Thranduil had not simply forgotten this, rather, he had hoped that his son's reaction was merely coincidental with the terror already within him. Though, now he was second-guessing that answer.

Thranduil straightened, laying a gentle hand on the elfling's shoulder, trying but failing to ignore the flinch. "Legolas, why are you so afraid of Elrond?" the king asked in a way that was part curious and half dreading the answer.

"I.. cannot tell you."

He tried again. "If you know of any injustice lord Elrond has committed, I deserve to know. Not only as your father but as your King," Thranduil replied firmly.

Legolas shook his head, a few tears falling down his face. "He will hurt me again, I know he will."

Thranduil stood in silent contemplation for a moment, still not entirely sure about his hunch. Then he spoke. "Certain treatments can cause pain more pan than others. I am afraid this cannot be avoided sometimes, though I am certain lord Elrond gave you what he could so that you could endure it."

Thranduil began checking his son for injuries, but Legolas yanked his hand back from his father's searching grasp. "No, you don't understand. He hurt me on purpose." Legolas blinked back burning tears, stubbornly refusing to give them the relief they were seeking.

Thranduil disagreed, knowing his son's tendency to overreact. "It may have felt that way at the time…"

"No!" Legolas rebutted, quite loudly. "He meant to hurt me!"

"Lord Elrond has sworn an oath to heal all within his care, not harm them," Thranduil responded, nudging Legolas's fingers away from the stone railing.

The prince crushed his father in a desperate embrace, softly weeping into his shoulder. Thranduil held him until the tears subsided, and when they did, he gently lifted his son's chin till he was at eye level, fiercely narrowing his own.

"I will not let Elrond harm you. Do you hear me? If anyone wants to harm you they will have to go through me first." Thranduil thought he had finally calmed the boy, but then the silence was broken by another sob.

"You said that already but he still hurt me!" He… threatened to kill you," Legolas whined.

The Elvenking became as a statue, standing motionless and staring blankly ahead. He would have thought that nothing in all of Arda had the power to make his son believe such lies, but Legolas was believing them to a point where the very name of the healer struck fear into his heart. There was something more than a wild imagination at work here. Something terrible must have happened to his son, something he saw or experienced that scarred him. But why or how Lord Elrond played a part in it continued to remain a mystery. All the Elvenking could do now was only hope that the damage was not permanent…. and there was only one way of making sure it wasn't.

Thranduil raised his head heavenward as if petitioning the Valar themselves to come down and heal Legolas, his eyes expressing the rarest of emotions, a side of himself the elf never showed to anyone. Doubt. The moonlight cast an unearthly glow, made all the more prominent by the soft luminescence of the king's skin and the cascade of spun white gold down his shoulders. In fact, any passers-by would have thought that one of the Valar had come to Middle earth. Even clad in only a tunic and leggings, the Elvenking looked every bit breathtaking.

I am not ready, Thranduil thought bitterly. Yes, I know all the steps but I have not put them into practice for a very long time. It may not be enough. Will I end up harming our son?

While it was true that he knew what to do and had done this procedure once before, Thranduil had never attempted it on an elf so young as Legolas. The fëas' of elflings were inherently delicate and easy to fracture, hence why they were in this predicament. There was also the small amount of pain that came with healing it -varying in severity of course, but Thranduil wasn't the least bit looking forward to purposefully causing his child any pain, however necessary it was. In fact, he was very much dreading it.

The tendrils of hopelessness grasped onto him, but just then, a voice, soft and reassuring, spoke in his mind, parting the dark clouds to let the light shine through. In that moment, an unexplainable strength and clarity flooded into him, one precise thought shinning like a brilliant beacon through the haze of uncertainty.

_Legolas._

If he did not or could not do this healing then his son's soul would be at risk his entire life and the unpleasant burning Legolas was feeling would only worsen in time as the fracture did. The Elvenking also remembered that the healing could only be performed by one who shared a deep bond of trust with Legolas. No one except himself could undertake this labor now. _It has to work. I have to try._

"Legolas…" Thranduil spoke gently, holding the elfling against him as he cried. "If you don't want a healer to perform the procedure then you do not have to."

Legolas stopped crying almost immediately, wiping his eyes. "Really?"

Thranduil nodded. "I do not want you to be afraid. It is very important to have a strong bond of trust with anyone that will have that kind of power over you. Even if it is for a short time." He took a breath. "So I must ask this of you.. after everything that has happened do you still trust me?"

At first it seemed like Legolas would say no, but then the elfling shook his head in acceptance.

"I trust you," Legolas replied with a weak smile.

Thranduil was in awe at how much trust and love he saw sparkling in those blue depths and wondered how his son could feel that way after being denied his presence for so long. He expected Legolas to be upset with him for abandoning him all these weeks, but here he was smiling at him- albeit weakly, but smiling, all the same. Thranduil gave Legolas a small smile in return, partly wondering what great deed he had done to deserve such an amazing son from the Valar.

"Ada?"

The Elvenking noticed the way Legolas stared up at the twinkling sky with a longing in his eyes, and spoke. "Yes?"

"Why was I not born as a star?"

"Because stars only look upon this world. We live within it and have the power to change it. That is the gift Ilúvatar gave us."

"But what if I am not strong enough to change it?"

Thranduil rested a calming hand on Legolas's shoulder. "Then you will have to wait for your strength to grow."

"How long?" Legolas asked.

"You will know when the time comes," Thranduil replied distantly. He stared a little longer at the sky before tearing his gaze away from it. Letting out a breath, he spoke.

"It is time, my son."

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**Author's note: So now you know… a little bit more. Wouldn't want to give too much away, after all ;) How do you think our Elvenking is going to heal Legolas? Feel free to share with me your ideas and opinions for this chapter! Even though the next and the next, etc, is written, I still enjoy reading them :)**


	4. Chapter 4: Take Of My Strength

**Author's note: Thank you for continuing to support this story, and for you new readers, welcome aboard! Now, this chapter has taken quite a long time to write over the years, because, basically, I didn't know how far to take things at first. Anyway, the inspiration for this chapter came from Raider-K(not spoiling anything by telling you how) and Lady Galadriel. Most of you can probably guess why. **

**A big thank you those of you who reviewed last chapter: **AndurilofTolkien**, **TeenMuggle**, and **AraneltheSilvan**. If you want to be mentioned in my next chapter, all it takes is a review- simple or complex, and I will add your name to the list.**

**One last thing, this chapter is the fluffiest yet! I actually had to take breaks in between writing it because it was so overwhelming. Enjoy!**

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Chapter Four: Take Of My Strength

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Thranduil held out his hand and Legolas took it, allowing himself to be led back to the bed.

Once there, the king drew down the duvet on his own side of the bed before directing Legolas to sit down; to which the elfling offered no argument. It was warmer due to his residual body heat, and granted much easier access to it since it wasn't blocked by the nightstand. Folding the duvet back over so that it was covering everything but the boy's chest, Thranduil spoke, trying to sound confident even though what he felt was anything but.

"Before I heal you, I will need to examine you first to assess the damage. This will take but a few moments. Lie back," he gently directed. Legolas complied, laying down into the soft pillow behind him. The softness did little to comfort him though.

Thranduil brought his hand to rest against his son's chest, sadly noticing that Legolas's heartbeat was still a little faster than it should be. He was about to start the examination, when interrupted.

"Wait.. will it hurt?"

Thranduil was quick to put his son's fears to rest. "No, penneth. There will only be slight discomfort, which will not last long." But there will be pain later, he thought grimly.

"Okay," Legolas replied, now more at ease.

Thranduil closed his eyes and Legolas watched in awe as his Ada's palm glowed a beautiful pure white color, brightening the room more brilliantly than any candle could ever dream. He flinched when the hand touched his chest, not knowing what to expect.

Thranduil gave his son a look of compassion. "I will tell you when the discomfort comes, try to relax until then."

Legolas nodded and breathed deeply, willing the tension from his muscles.

Thranduil focused his energy through his palm, guiding it deeper and deeper until it reached the electric energy. It was very strong and powerful, a vibrant, fast-flowing circle of energy that protected what lied within in. Right away, Thranduil knew it would take a lot of effort on his part to move past it. Focusing his senses outward, he spoke.

"The discomfort will come shortly as I attempt to reach your soul. Do not move or I will have to start again," Thranduil cautioned. He waited until his son gave a wordless acknowledgment, before focusing himself inwardly again. Due to having kept his own energy in place he did not have to seek out the circle of energy again, for it was already before him, crackling in challenge. Gathering as much strength as possible, he pushed against it. The energy did not yield at first, but Thranduil was unrelenting, and eventually he made it past the threshold.

Legolas tensed, the tightening of his chest feeling very odd. However, it was only slightly uncomfortable, just as he was told. The discomfort lasted for only a few seconds more before he felt a warmth where Thranduil's hand rested against his chest, a greater warmth inside him pulsing and soothing. Legolas closed his eyes, lulled into relaxation.

The elfling flinched upon hearing his father's sharp inhale. "Ada, what is it? Is something wrong?" He asked, a little frightened now.

Thranduil was at odds with what he should tell his son.. with what he should do. In truth, he felt like crushing his son in a hug and never letting him go, but since that couldn't happen, he did the only thing he could do in that moment.

Willing his fëa to leave his son, Thranduil took Legolas into his arms and held the boy close, a few tears gliding down his cheeks, which he secretly wiped away. Oh, Valar, what did this to you! The Elvenking was deeply grieved that such a horrendous thing would befall his son, but this grief was mostly tempered by anger. He was angry with himself for allowing it to happen in the first place. If only he had spent more time with the boy he knew he would have been present before any of this came into being, before the fear manifested so deeply into Legolas's subconscious in such a cruel way. So yes, he was responsible.

"Forgive me, ion-nin. Please forgive me for leaving you alone for so long," Thranduil begged, so far beyond keeping any of his true emotions muted anymore.

Legolas went from being afraid to truly frightened, pulling away from his father's arms. "Ada, you're scaring me.. tell me what is wrong with me!" he demanded brazenly.

Thranduil realized that he was scaring Legolas by his silence and quickly steeled himself before meeting the eyes of his son. He took a few more moments to carefully decide how he would to break the news. The king had felt a fracture in his son's fëa. Thankfully it was small and no further damage was found, but it would hurt quite a bit to heal. Of course it will, Thranduil chided himself, part of his soul has been separated. Like a broken bone, it needs to be set; sharply pushed together with the whole in order for it to heal in the right place. Moreover, disclosing this information must be done with a lot of care.

With the words in mind, Thranduil spoke. "Ion-nin, I have just discovered that you will need more tending than I previously thought."

"Oh…" Legolas's eyes were downcast as he contemplated on these words, some of the tension visibly leaving his body. "What do you mean, Ada?"

Yes, what did he mean? In trying to ease the information's passing he was wasting precious time. Things needed to be sped along. Thranduil spoke, determined to say all that was needed.

"Your fëa.. Is more damaged than I thought."

"Is it cut?" Legolas asked.

"Not exactly. I came across a small crack.. a fracture."

Legolas looked perplexed. "Is that like the time Elrohir fractured his leg while climbing a tree?"

Thranduil nodded. "Yes. Except that was bone. Your soul is different and injuring it is much more dangerous."

Thranduil saw the flash of fear, wishing he had not needed to use such harsh wording with his son. He reached out a hand, grounding the elfling where he lay. "Legolas, look at me," he commanded.

The elfling looked up at his father, both fear and hope betrayed on his face.

Thranduil's tone softened. "It is alright to be frightened, I was the first time too." Of course the Elvenking was leaving out that Legolas's injury was worse than his had been, but he did not want to cause the boy any undo fear.

Legolas' eyebrows soared above his eyes. Thranduil had never told him many stories of his youth, and certainly never hinted to him about any fears he may have had in that time. Legolas had always envisioned his father as being a courageous elfling back then, never fearing anything. To suddenly hear that his father was afraid of something came as quite the shock but what was more of shock was that his Ada had experienced the same kind of injury he did.

"You had a fracture too?" Legolas asked.

"Yes," Thranduil admitted. "I was even more afraid than you to have it healed, and went so far as to run away and hide under my bed. But my father easily found me."

"What did he do when he found you?"

"He spoke. For the longest time I heard nothing else but his voice. It was not harsh or firm, only calm as he briefly told me of the pain and then of the wonderful feeling that is experienced during the healing. The curiosity of what that would be like overcame much of the fear in me."

Legolas looked curious as well, just as Thranduil had hoped. He continued, dreading the next words, but he would not let his son be unprepared.

"There is one more thing you must know. During the healing, you will feel some pain… It will be hard to bare." Thranduil let these words stand on their own.

Legolas shook his head, not liking the sound of that one bit. "No, I don't want to…."

"You must, ion-nin." Thranduil caressed his cheek . "I promise you that any pain you feel will be brief and I will help you through it, just as my father did for me."

Legolas stayed silent, still a little afraid.

Thranduil spoke again in hopes of giving his son a little courage. "It is not that bad Legolas, I promise you."

Legolas was indecisive on the matter. On the one hand, he really wanted to prove that he was brave, but thinking about the pain he would feel made him want to curl into a ball and forget the whole thing. On the other hand though, Legolas remembered his father warning him that the pain would only worsen if he wasn't healed. That sounded really scary.

"…Okay. I will try to be strong," came the hesitant and quiet response.

Thranduil smiled proudly, kissing his son's temple. "I know you will." He held out his free hand to the boy.

Legolas looked at it, confused.

"When the pain becomes the hardest to bare I want you to squeeze my hand. That way you will know that there is only about five seconds to go. I want you to count them out loud when the time comes." At a nod from Legolas, Thranduil said one last thing, making sure to keep his voice gentle. "Keep still and I will not have to do this again."

With a last glance to his son and a deep breath to steady his own nerves, the Elvenking placed his hand ever-gently over his son's heart and waited for Legolas to brace himself. Once he was certain that Legolas was prepared, the king whispered the elvish healing words and a much brighter glow ebbed to life from his palm once again.

Legolas clenched the duvet at the first sting of pain. It wasn't very strong and he easily refrained from voicing his distress. The next few seconds the pain came and went, allowing Legolas to sufficiently brace himself before more came.

Thranduil did his best to focus on the healing instead of his son's pained flinches, but he found it quite difficult to do so. Abruptly, Legolas's heartbeat quickened, and he ran his fingers through the young one's hair to help ease his pain. The pounding beneath his palm slowed and Legolas held his gaze. Thranduil could see that his child was putting trust in his ability not to mess up and hurt him, though still slightly feared it happening.

Putting aside his own stress, he spoke. "Not for much longer. Sîdha," Thranduil crooned, continuing to stroke the golden tresses.

Legolas tried breathing through the tight burning sensation in his chest, finding it easier to do so with the comforting motions through his hair. Not for the first time, Legolas was glad his father was there with him. Suddenly, something unexpected happened; the glow of Thranduil's palm brightened.

Legolas flinched under the hand pressed against him as the pain ratcheted to an intense level. It no longer came in waves but was constantly there now and his body was strongly urging his lugs to crying out.

Sensing that his son would not take much more, Thranduil held out his hand to him. "Squeeze my hand, Legolas. It will help." Legolas took the hand without protest, squeezing it hard, much harder than Thranduil thought he would. But the pain didn't subside much. It was like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, drawing ever nearer to the edge with each agonized breath, and after a few more moments Legolas could bear no more.

"Ada!"

Thranduil immediately stopped, jerking his head upward to meet his son's glassy eyes.

"Hurts. No more… saes," Legolas begged, pressing his own hand to his chest as if to ease the burning there.

Thranduil could not believe what was happening. This was a highly unusual occurrence. Even though Legolas was so young, he still had quite a high pain threshold. He never cried out unless the pain was unbearable, which meant that it was. But the Elvenking didn't understand how that could be when the healing was not even halfway finished yet. Thranduil had never experienced this much pain when he had to endure the same healing, so why was it different for his son? The king's heart was breaking at the harm he was causing but he had no choice. If Legolas was not healed he would live as a broken elfling that eventually died from such damage. Thranduil knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would never ever forgive himself if Legolas died from his own incompetence, burdened with carrying the weight of an empty heart until finally fading. Thranduil sighed heavily. It would do no good to think of such things. Legolas was alive, not dead. Treating him as such only caused undo harm to himself and served as a distraction from what truly mattered.

Thranduil spoke, voice heavy with regret. "I do not know what is causing you such severe pain, ion nin, but I must finish healing you."

Legolas said nothing, still trying to overcome the residual pain.

"I would take your place if I could." Thranduil could barely get the words out before Legolas stared into his eyes, conveying such utter vulnerability and pain that it made the Elvenking internally wince.

"Seas," Legolas whimpered, a lone tear streaking down his face.

That did it. Whatever resolve Thranduil had when healing the boy had vanished. Legolas would not suffer anymore. He wouldn't allow it. There had to be a way to heal him painlessly. But did such a method exist? Pain was very much a part of soul healing, as was the pleasure. Nothing could be done to change it as far as the Elvenking knew. But… maybe he didn't have to. There was another method, he realized. Only in times of great need was it ever done due to its extreme effect on the body, but he would pay any price to ease his son's pain.

Thranduil rubbed his thumb across Legolas's small hand. "Ion-nin, you must allow me to continue healing you. There will be less pain this time, nothing like before."

To Thranduil's relief and surprise, Legolas spoke, voice thick. "You promise?"

"I promise," he replied sincerely, not breaking eye contact.

Legolas nodded and anxiously waited for the healing to continue, with more bravery than Thranduil thought he possessed. He gently lifted Legolas's hand from his chest and replaced it with his own, speaking the invocation

Legolas flinched as the pain came again, but it only lasted a fraction of a second before an incredible amount of strength infused into him, making the burning almost nonexistent and much easier to manage this time. Curious as to what was causing this strange feeling, Legolas opened his eyes. One look at his father gave him all he needed to know.

Thranduil nodded slowly to confirm his son's suspicious, muscles already weakening from the absence of a large portion of strength. In turn, Legolas felt the warmth in his chest return and this time it flooded his senses, filling him with a feeling of wholeness and calm, taking away all remnants of pain. His father's fëa held his own, giving him the sensations of diving into a pleasantly cold and rejuvenating spring, and it was wonderful. Thranduil could also feel his son's fëa more strongly. It felt like being bathed in sunlight on a warm summer's day, pleasantly intensifying as the healing neared its end. Though it only took a few moments for the damage to be repaired, it seemed much longer when the healing was complete.

Thranduil was pleasantly surprised to see Legolas sleeping soundly, a small smile on his lips that also elicited a smile from Thranduil as he drew up the covers around his son's arms. Planting a kiss to his forehead, Thranduil laid down beside him, draping an arm around his son.

But sleep would not claim him that night.

There were so many confusing and troubling thoughts swirling around in his mind to find any peace or solace. One of the main concerns was why Legolas had screamed. Thranduil had a hunch it had something to do with the trauma of the nightmare, but all possibilities needed to be considered. That other possibility, was the elf lord.

The Elvenking knew that Elrond was a kind hearted elf that would sooner see himself killed that to hurt anyone, especially Legolas. Thranduil no longer harbored any doubt of this due, in no small part, to the vow of peace. Legolas also knew of this vow, and yet, still seemed almost deathly afraid of the healer, as if believing Elrond was a vile monster intent on harm. What had the peredhel done to inspire such fear in his son? Or had he done anything? Moreover, what of the nightmare? The bits and pieces of his son's screaming pleas didn't really tell him much about the nature of it, but for a nightmare to mar an elf's fëa it must have been quite powerful indeed, anchored by a deep fear within Legolas. But that didn't really point to any clues either. Thranduil didn't have the faintest idea what Legolas so greatly feared. The only fears Thranduil recalled, were the minor fear of the dark at 200 years-old; equivalent to five in human years, and fear of going to the healer's when he was about 250.

One thing was certain, Legolas held all the answers. Elrond likely knew some of them as well, but more importantly, unlike his son, the lord of Imladris would speak openly of them if asked. But that would be tomorrow. Right now, Thranduil needed to keep close to Legolas. A healing fëa was still very delicate and fragile, and he couldn't risk another nightmare undoing all his work.

With a resigned sigh, Thranduil settled his head against the soft pillows and watched over his son as he slept, determined to spot any signs of a nightmare before they had a chance to harm his Greenleaf; his heart.

* * *

**Author's note: So what do you think? Did the fëa healing live up to your expectations? Do you feel like screaming into your pillow from the fluffiness? I did ;)**


	5. Chapter 5: My Son? My Friend?

**Author's note: I had originally intended on uploading this chapter earlier today, but in RL I had to go to the ER because I came down with this terrible bug—worst ever. They never figured out what it was, but I am doing my best to battle it and day by day I get a little better. If this chapter seems rushed in places it is due to that, but I went over everything thoroughly to make sure it was prime for posting as always. Enjoy! And have a happy Easter!**

**A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: **TeenMuggle**, **AraneltheSilvan**, and **leelee202** (All of you should check out her terrific LOTR story Another World: a story about two people from different worlds meeting in, well, this world in modern day. FYI, one of these characters is Thranduil ;))**

* * *

Chapter Five: My Son? My Friend?

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Sunlight filtered through the trees, resting on the earth in dappled drops of golden rain.

Legolas blinked his eyes back into focus from their exploration of elven dreams, staring directly into the sun peeking at him from the balcony. He closed his eyes, comforted by the warmth on his face.

It was at this moment that all the memories of the prior night came back to him. The nightmare, jolting up in bed from the icy water thrown on him, his ada holding him and whispering apologies. And finally, being carried to another bed and waking up a second time with a strange feeling in his chest… The fëa healing. Of course, he remembered now. The closeness, the connection, the love. Such a powerful and strong feeling, almost overwhelming for his small body to experience, just as his ada had cautioned. Then there was the burning. It wasn't anything close to a scalding fire, but there had been quite a hot heat emanating from within his heart. It was only toward the end of the healing that it became-if not damaging, then- very painful. If he concentrated, Legolas could still feel some residual warmth residing there, though it was now pleasant instead of painful.

Well, pleasant was an understatement. His body was singing. There was no better way of describing the pleasant sensations of warm energy that coursed through him, nor the utterly calm and relaxed state he was in.

Legolas laid a hand on his chest. It felt warm, even through the fabric of his tunic. His father's fëa was still threaded through his own, the crisp energy floating upon each inhale and exhale, brushing softly against his entire being like the petal of a rose. Legolas wanted to weep from tremendous love, from notes of deep sorrow—achingly beautiful and haunting—in the melody of his soul.

Legolas pushed himself up onto his elbows. Anxiety and guilt swept over him as he glanced over at his father sleeping beside him. But it wasn't a sound sleep. There were dark circles under his eyes—which were closed—and his brow was creased in—what Legolas had grown to recognize—worry. Legolas had the urge to wake him; to save him from whatever terrible dream he was experiencing just as his father had done for him, but decided against it. An elf sleeping with closed eyes only happened with severe illness or exhaustion. Since he could find no sign of illness, Legolas guessed the latter currently afflicted him.

Careful not to wake his exhausted ada, Legolas slipped silently from the bed. At least, that was the plan. Thranduil suddenly shifted on the mattress, muttering something unintelligible before draping an arm around him. Then the king fell silent and unmoving in apparent contentment.

Legolas sighed and tried to wiggle out from Thranduil's grasp, careful not to shake the bed and end up with both arms around him. There would be no escape for him once that happened. Although, the worst possible outcome would be a startled Elvenking pulling out his sword from under his pillow and pressing it against his son's throat. Though it had never happened, Legolas knew there was a likelihood of it occurring if he were to wake the slumbering king now. He was sure it would not be a pleasant experience.

Too bad Legolas was unaware that it would take nothing short of thirty Oromë to wake the king now.

Lifting up his father's arm until it was grazing the fabric of his tunic, Legolas gently slid himself sideways until his torso was freed. Using the freed arm to maneuver, he pushed against it and slowly yanked the other free, taking a glance at his father's sleeping form afterward. Letting out a relieved sigh, he began to work on freeing his leg.

A frown.

Where is it?

Legolas tried to wiggle his toes. None would wiggle. Brows knitted, Legolas tried again, this time putting all his effort into making them move. One did, but the feeling that accompanied the movement was something the prince was not expecting. It was numb; as was his entire foot. Legolas knew about the effects certain pressures had on ligaments over a certain length of time. The way the blood would be trapped from moving to a specific appendage and the numb feeling of that appendage until the blood could circulate freely again. Knowing what he had to do, Legolas gripped onto his upper thigh just below the knee and pulled.

Legolas realized two things at this moment: his leg was trapped between his fathers' and said father was now murmuring his name.

The prince froze, certain he had woken his father. But when nothing more came of it he realized his ada must have been talking in his sleep. Not allowing himself to wonder what the king was dreaming about, he gave his leg one firm tug. It recoiled backward, sending his knee into his chin.

Legolas rubbed the sore spot and glared at the offending knee responsible, before sliding down the bed-which was quite a long ways- landing silently on the floor. He winced when pins and needles stabbed the underside of his foot, but ignored it, tiptoeing toward the door. Turning the knob as soundlessly as he could, he swung it open, stepping out into the corridor. Legolas paid the guards no attention, though he could feel their scrutinizing gazes on the back of his head as traveled the short distance to his own chamber, passing wordlessly by his own guards and into the room. Legolas knew he probably should have said something to them, especially because they looked so burdened worried. But what could he say, 'I slept in my ada's bed last night because I had a terrible nightmare?' No, that just made him sound like a scared little elfling. Legolas was not little.

Striding into the room in an adult fashion, he plopped down on his bed. He bent his right leg over his left and then proceeded to pound his fist into it from the underside. "Wake up! Now is not the time to sleep, do you hear me?" he yelled.

The foot offered no answer.

Legolas pounded the appendage a bit more and even tried to massage it a few minutes, before standing in defeat.

It was then that he noticed the destruction that was his bed. The duvet was strewn on the floor, as were a few pillows. The sheet itself looked as if a storm had inhaled it and then spit it out in a messy heap onto the mattress and said mattress was soaked even after so many hours, the empty bowl lying on the bedside table. Legolas stared at it a few seconds more before heading to the closet. He pulled out a dark green shirt and some light grey leggings, and proper shoes that gripped well. The prince quickly dressed before kneading the tangles from his hair and loosely braiding it. He was not yet of age nor of proper skill to receive his warrior braids yet, so the loose ones would have to do.

Legolas lifted up his shirt over his stomach revealing a bluish-brown bruise just below his left rib. The injury was due to the hilt of a blade slamming into his chest. The elfling responsible had been remorseful afterward, but Legolas could tell they were secretly pleased with themselves. This was often the way things were, considering his reputation on the training grounds and who he was. Everyone wanted to best the young prince in a fight. Some really wanted to.

Legolas lightly pressed the bruise, wincing. The cold water had taken away the ache in the muscle, but it was still tender. With a sigh, Legolas pulled down his shirt, and after shortly appraising himself in the mirror, Legolas decided he looked presentable enough and left his chambers to follow the desire of his growling stomach.

The prince's search led him to the kitchens where e he ate a small meal of lembas bread and broth, his stomach too queasy to push himself to eat more. His friends came and went for their provisions for the day, but whenever asked, Legolas declined their offers to sit with him, simply stating that he preferred to be alone. Of course, no one found this to be peculiar and kindly left the prince alone without argument. Legolas just wasn't feeling social lately. How could he when it was so close the anniversary of the day his mother died? He closed himself off from everyone, even his closest friends, preferring the solitude of his chambers or his secret place by the lake. Legolas felt one of those secret places calling out, beckoning to him.

Scarfing down the remainder of the bread and broth, he stood up from the table and placed the used dishes in the pile with the others, and left. His feet led him outside of the palace to the courtyard. Legolas padded across the dew-wet grass and climbed up the branches of his favorite tree until he was high off the ground, settling down on one of the thicker branches still thin enough to undulate slightly in the breeze.

Legolas closed his eyes and leaned against the strong bough, focusing on the calming feeling in his chest once more and allowing it to ease him. It was less powerful but still noticeable, probably due to the distance he was from his father.

A branch snapped.

Legolas jumped, expecting his own branch to have broken, but a quick cursory glance told him otherwise. Leaning down to check the cause of it, he spied a small squirrel scurrying around the underbrush, making a lot of noise as it gathered a few fallen nuts into its generous cheeks. Legolas let out a nervous breath and leaned back against the tree again, this time keeping his eyes open. But the silence was no longer a comfort.

_My prince, what is causing you so much ill-ease?_

Legolas heard the soft whispers of the tree and frowned. Aye, he was 'ill at ease.' Though nature was blossoming invitingly around him, his mind seemed glued to only one thing. Just a bad dream, Legolas was about to say but stopped himself. A tree never dreamed so it was incapable of understanding what he meant.

"I didn't sleep well last night," he said. Legolas extended his hand and patted the tree when he felt the trees sympathy and worry for him, a small smile gracing his lips when the tree's spirit calmed and tried to calm him in return.

Legolas yawned.

The tree spoke again in its unique language of woody groans and creaks. _Rest now, my prince. I will keep watch over you._

Legolas had no energy to protest, his eyes soon unfocused of their own accord. "Hannon le," he replied before his body went lax, cradled in the branches of the now highly alert Oak tree.

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

"Thranduil, you must awaken."

The Elvenking groaned sleepily and forced open his eyes, slightly startled when he saw the face of Elrond staring down at him. What was normally seen an act of treason, was, in fact, lawful for only the healer. Lord Elrond had the permission and right to come into the king's chambers unannounced if he felt there was a risk to his health.

"…..Elrond?" Thranduil turned his head to the other side of the bed, but it was empty.

"It is alright," Elrond reassured before the king had a panic attack. "Your son is safe and climbing trees this very moment."

Thranduil turned back towards him, not able to stop himself from lying back down as a wave of dizziness struck. "Why are you here?"

"Several council members requested that I see what was keeping you. Apparently, it was dreams." Elrond smirked wryly at him.

Thranduil closed his eyes, opening them just as quickly. "Council? What is the time?"

"It is past mid-day," Elrond replied.

Thranduil bolted upright and practically jumped out of bed, but as soon as his feet made contact with the floor he was overcome with exhaustion and careened forward.

He was falling.

…..

The ground was coming up fast.

…..

And Thranduil braced himself to impact it.

…..

But just before he hit the floor strong arms grabbed hold and helped him to his feet, remaining there to steady him.

"Careful mellon, you wouldn't want to break anything before an important council meeting," Elrond said pragmatically, releasing his hold.

Even in his extreme state of exhaustion, Thranduil noticed that the paradhel's hands shook slightly as they returned to his sides. He spoke skeptically.

"I am grateful for the rescue, but also curious now. You usually have a much faster reaction speed than that. I nearly hit the floor!"

"Ah, it appears you have discovered my secret. You are not the only one that gave of their strength to help someone last night," Elrond replied.

Thranduil blinked incredulously. "How did you know?"

"I admit the possibility had not occurred to me until I saw Legolas climbing trees this morning with a carefree smile on his face. Suspicion started growing then, but it wasn't until I found you deeply asleep in your chambers well past mid-day that I put the pieces together. We both know you do not sleep in unless you are incapable of waking."

Thranduil allowed himself a half smile. "The long ages have not dulled your perceptions," he replied poignantly, taking things a little slower as he readied himself.

Elrond gave a knowing smirk. "And you never have been able to take it easy unless forced. It looks like time has changed neither of us, mellon nin."

Thranduil looked taken aback by the comment, but quickly banished all emotion from his face. "You still think of me as your friend?" he questioned monotonously.

Elrond glanced up from the interesting floorboards, folding his hands. "Of course I do. I am not unaware of the cold distance that lies between us..."

"Distance which you yourself, created," Thranduil added tersely.

Elrond didn't take the bait. "I expected as much after I revealed my plan and I do not blame you for reacting so harshly that day. It is not easy to hear nor was it easy to decide, but I have longed for some time to shed that which dampens my healing abilities."

"Has it made a difference?" Thranduil asked curiously.

Elrond nodded. "The change was subtle at first, but now the power is as prevalent as the blood coursing through my veins, ever present with any healing I perform. There was, in fact, one occasion where only the merest touch saved someone from the brink of death. Can you imagine how important this will be to have in these coming years?"

Thranduil kept his face blank, but inwardly he was reeling. He would need to keep Elrond in his good graces. A healing touch would indeed, come to be needed.

Elrond continued. "I have been meaning to tell you that I have been working on a cure for Shadow Sickness."

Thranduil arched a brow in challenge. "How have you been doing so? Nothing shadowed of plant or beast resides in Imladris."

"I acquired a branch from an infected tree in your forest. I took it as a parting gift from you and have studied it ever since. I've even conducted some of my own experiments, some of which have been fairly successful to a certain degree." Elrond's tone darkened and grew quieter. "My own sons had to revive me when I passed from consciousness after trying one particular technique."

"What did you do?" Thranduil asked, genuinely curious as he strapped on his sword, buckling it in place.

"I tried burning it away." Lord Elrond saw the shock and judgment in the Elvenking's demeanor but continued. "My fëa was not strong enough to overcome its malign nature and it overpowered my defenses, breaking my willpower. I could feel it doing this, Thranduil, feel my control slipping inch by inch until..." Elrond could not go on.

"You lost control," Thranduil finished for him, mortified.

"Yes," Elrond replied in a low whisper, and Thranduil needed to hear no more. He came abreast to the healer and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I almost hurt them, Thranduil. I almost hurt my children."

"Hush, It was not of your doing," Thranduil pressed, extending what comfort he could to the healer. "You cannot blame yourself for an action you yourself had no power over."

Elrond's voice was raw and it was clear to Thranduil that he was close to tears. "If I had not been taken away, Valar only knows what I could have done to them. I can still see there faces, see their fear... I do not think I can bear returning. Not yet. That is why I brought them with me."

There was no greater pain than for a parent to harm their child. Thranduil had always feared it would happen, ever since Legolas was born. But those fears had been of dropping his son or not recognizing the signs of a fever in time. Not murdering him with his own bare hands. Elrond had almost lived that nightmare and Thranduil could not imagine the pain he was in. If Thranduil himself ever...killed Legolas, accidental or within broken will, he knew he would turn the blade on himself without hesitation.

Thranduil spoke abruptly, not fully considering what he would propose but not completely opposed to it either. "You and your son's may stay in my halls as long as you need. I will even see about moving you to larger rooms so you will be more comfortable."

Elrond shook his head. "That is not necessary."

Thranduil would not have his offer be turned down on account of propriety. "It has already been done."

Elrond nodded gratefully. "Then you have my deep gratitude and service while I remain here."

"I could do no less for an old friend," Thranduil smiled wistfully.

Elrond smiled softly in return, his expression soon changing to curiosity. "I normally do not pry, but as a healer, I need to know if anything else happened to Legolas last night, something unusual."

Before Thranduil could reply, there was a knock at the door. Thranduil gave permission to enter and a golden-haired elf—Glorfindel. He recognized the balrog slayer anywhere—came to stand in the center of the room, bowing low before the two lords.

Glorfindel conveyed the message promptly. "I'm sorry to disturb you my lords, but the council is growing restless. There is talk of canceling this meeting if the two of you do not arrive soon."

Elrond spoke. "Give them our sincerest apologies and tell them that their patience will soon be rewarded, for we are on our way." Glorfindel bowed and then left hastily to convey the message.

"Yes."

The vague word spoken aloud momentarily confused Elrond, before remembering his question. He faced Thranduil expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.

Thranduil spoke, a sadness in his eyes. "Something unusual did happen to Legolas last night. It is something I have been meaning to speak with you about."

Elrond saw the subtle change in the Elvenking's demeanor but knew it was not yet time to inquire about it. An explanation would be given soon enough. The elf lord inclined his head in acceptance. "Then you will have my ear and my assistance in the council meeting today."

"Indeed. Two fatigued minds are better than one when it comes to these things. I would be grateful for the support," Thranduil replied, rubbing the last bit of sandalwood through his hair.

"Then with both of us supporting the other, this meeting should run smoothly."

Thranduil scoffed. "Elrond, there is still so much you do not know about Mirkwood politics. Nothing ever runs smoothly."

Elrond chuckled, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

**Author's note: Feel free to review, follow, and favorite this story. You don't have to review.. I will post no matter what. It just really makes my day to know your thoughts and opinions and helps me produce content faster. That being said, if I receive, let's say 6 reviews this chapter, I will include a satisfying secret scene in the next one. If not I will PM it to those of you who are interested (Though, if I like how the scene turns out I may just include it anyway).**

**You can expect chapter 6 next Saturday (hopefully earlier in the day, but no promises).**


	6. Chapter 6: Sins of The Brothers

**Author's note: I'm early to post! Sort of... but at least it's not 9 o'clock this time.**

** Before you ask... yes, I decided to include the secret scene. 5 reviews are only one shy of 6, true, but too much of the scene was important to the plot to just PM it. Besides, it gave the chapter more depth and variation, so I just weaved it in. Keep in mind that I thoroughly edited this chapter over the week, but a lot of it is new material, so any errors you find should be small. Enjoy!**

**Thank you to all the wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter: **AraneltheSilvan**, **leelee202**, **margie-me**,** Lady Aurelia**, and **TeenMuggle**. I loved reading every one of your comments! And I will be catching up on responding to them this weekend.**

**I struggled with whether or not to include a certain scene in this chapter, but since this is a T rated story, I believe you guys can handle it. **

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Chapter Six: Sins of The Brothers

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Legolas awoke almost an hour later, much more rested and at peace.

A gentle smile stretched his lips as he recalled the dream. It was a happy memory of the time his mother climbed trees with him.

Thranduil had been too busy with political matters to go along with them at the time. At least, that was only part of the truth. His mother had told him that Thranduil just wasn't the sort of elf that climbed trees. He loved them and respected them as much, if not more than any other wood elf, but he never climbed them. When confronted with the reason why, Thranduil had said, "A King does not climb trees like a young ellon. He has to be seen by his subjects as a strong figure that does not while away precious time doing anything that isn't necessary for the betterment of his kingdom."

Legolas wondered what had made his father so different. He hoped that nothing would ever stand in the way of his love for climbing trees. With this last thought, Legolas thanked the tree for its faithful watch and bid it farewell for the day. If he hurried, he would still be able to take a short walk around the garden before the next meal.

Gripping the branch above him, he dropped down onto the next and then swung over to the one below it, landing gracefully. The prince froze when he heard a distinct voice and his stomach flipped when he recognized who it belonged to. He leaned down to get a better view, and sure enough, the twins were standing under the same tree he was perched.

"You see, Elladan? To find a wood elf all one has to do is find a tree and one will turn up."

"You are not right yet, the other retorted. "You don't even know if there are any elves up there?"

Legolas sighed in relief, covering his mouth as soon as he did. He shifted uncomfortably as Elrohir marked him.

"Ah, there is an elf up there."

"Elladan rolled his eyes at his brother. "Alright, I owe you. But you will have to wait until we return home for your payment."

"Fine with me," the Elrohir replied. "Prince Legolas, how fares the view from up there?"

Legolas swallowed, praying that his voice would remain steady. "It's fine."

"Only fine? Where is that refined and embellished speech of the Mirkwood elves?" Elrohir quipped. "No, I'm afraid that we are going to need proof."

"Tell us something only Prince Legolas would know," Elladan clarified.

Legolas was indecisive. These were the last people Legolas wanted to converse with right now. They wanted only one thing, and Legolas was certain the twins would not stop hounding him until he pacified their interest with a carefully crafted truth. At least, that is what his ada did sometimes, so it should work for him as well. Until he could do this, the twins would not leave him alone, but he hoped the chances of them doing so would increase the more he bent to their demands.

_If only I had my knives with me,_ Legolas thought as he leaped down, landing in front of the two elves.

"Woah, we surrender." The twins held up their hands in mock-surrender before dropping them, taking a few steps toward the young prince. Elladan cocked his head to the side, smugly crossing his arms. "We're waiting."

Legolas was blank. What could he possibly tell the twins to convince them he was the prince? "I don't know what can convince you," he said.

Elrohir tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. I have an idea. Do you have an important secret given to you by us?"

Legolas visibly paled. "Y-yes."

The twins both smiled, although it didn't reach their eyes. "We have the right elf after all," Elrohir stated, though Legolas got more of a predatory vibe than friendly.

"Tell us, did you tell that secret to anyone?"

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

"I believe the new trade route would benefit both parties. Mirkwood will carefully consider your offer." Thranduil gestured for the speaker to take his seat and then stood before the council. "If no one else has anything more to put forward I think we can call this meeting adjourned."

"Wait, your majesty…"

Thranduil turned his attention to a group of twelve elves now standing in the audience of both people of Dale and of his realm, immediately recognizing them. They were not dressed not unlike the courtly attire, but less ostentatious than most of the members. Though unlike the others, their mouths were drawn in languid forced smiles, their gazes distant and frightened.

Thranduil did not blame them. One of the houses in their village had exploded nearly a week ago. The blast radius was large enough to send shrapnel flying large distances, and according to some, the deafening boom had been felt even by the outlying houses a quarter of a league away. Miraculously, no one was occupying the house at the time it exploded, so thankfully no one was killed, only injured. The cause of such a blast continued to elude him, although, after the recent gruesome event, Thranduil suspected Orcs had a hand in it somehow.

"You may speak," Thranduil told them.

They continued. "As a token of our gratitude for the aid given to our village, I present our Elvenking with three barrels, each filled to bursting point with only the finest Dorwinion wine."

Thranduil inwardly sighed. He did not need gifts or praise for having common decency. Any king worthy of governing so many would have lent aid to those in need of it without expecting a reward. Although, in retrospect, declining a gift so freely and kindly given came off as rude and often offended the giver. Thranduil knew by these people's demeanor and mannerisms that their faith had been shaken and their continence was hanging by a thin thread. He did not want to break it.

Mustering a smile that showed his pearly-white teeth, he spoke. "I accept your most generous gift and I will have them sent to my cellar right away."

Thranduil had to admit that the gratified light that momentarily shined in their eyes had been worth it. He watched them, and everyone else file out of the room until only one person remained. Then, certain he was not being watched by unfriendly eyes, he dropped his shoulders, sighing heavily and grasping onto the table.

"How do you feel?"

Thranduil knew the question was more teasing than a genuine inquiry. "As though I could devour every barrel of wine in my cellar and still want for more."

"That doesn't seem terribly out of character for you," a voice said dryly, "You've always carried an unhealthy fixation for it."

Thranduil didn't take the bait. "In any case, wine has its uses, he replied simply, slightly disappointed when his words didn't glean any reaction. Though, he did not let the disappointment show, and instead, he padded over to the tray housing two glasses and a decanter of something that called to his very being. He pressed the rim of a glass to his lips, inhaling the sweet perfume of the red liquid filling it to the brim. What would normally be consumed gingerly, was downed like a drowning man in need of oxygen.

"That, Elrond, is called liquid strength." Elrond could have sworn he heard him purr in contentment as he drew the empty glass away and set it on the tray.

"My lord, may I speak with you in private?" a voice called.

The elf lord turned his attention toward the doorway and the elf standing there. "Of course, I will be there in a moment," he said promptly.

Elrond faced Thranduil. "You should heed the desire of your body and take rest. I will come to check on you in a few hours."

"If that is what the master healer suggests, I would be a fool not to obey."

Elrond caught the mirthful glimmer in his eye but knew not to read too much into it. Thranduil was more at ease around him, but it was obvious he still held a grudge against him. Without speaking another word, Elrond departed the meeting chamber and then guided the waiting elf into an empty hall. Certain the path would remain clear of traffic, for the time being, he turned inquisitive eyes toward him, taking in his disheveled appearance and posture, which was, in the peredhel's opinion, appalling.

"We are alone, but it may not be for long" Elrond stipulated. "What did you mean to speak with me about?"

"My lord, you operated on my brother yesterday."

Elrond was surprised. "You're the brother? Forgive me for not recognizing you, Toross, I am not myself."

Toross shook his head. "You've done nothing that warrants forgiveness. I should be thanking you. Ailred told me what you did and from what I've heard you sacrificed a great deal to save him."

Elrond swallowed. "What else did he tell you?"

"If you are referring to his ordeal, he did mention it."

"I am deeply sorry. If I had known-"

"Please my lord, do not apologize," Toross interrupted. "You saved his life. My brother is alive because of you."

Before Elrond could say another word, Toross embraced him. He hesitantly returned the gesture, and then the elf pulled away, meeting his eyes.

"Thank you."

Elrond nodded, the profound gratitude shining in the elf's eyes deeply moving him more than words could. Although, nothing could erase his guilt for what he had done to Ailred.

"Oh, I almost forgot… my brother wanted you to have this." Toross pulled out a scalpel from the inner pocket of his robe and handed it to the elf lord. "He made it himself and wanted to give it to you the last time he saw you. Since he could not come, I promised I would give it to you."

Elrond tested the weight of it in his hand. "This blade is well balanced. Your brother is a skilled craftsman indeed to make such an instrument."

"My brother told me what happened to your other one. You will find that this blade does not bend so easily and can cut through bone. At least, that's what my brother promises anyway. But you can be sure he speaks the truth," Toross assured. "Speaking of which…" he pulled out a translucent covering the same shape as the edge of the blade. "Ailred was in the process of building you a case, but since the surgery has made him immobile for the time being, he instructed me to give you this covering. You can see through it so you do not mistake which knife you use during operations until my brother can finish its case."

Elrond took the small covering from the elf and placed it over the sharp edge of the blade. "That will not be necessary. I believe I already possess a case that will do just fine. Tell your brother to conserve his strength. As a matter of fact," Elrond continued, "I want you to remind him that he is not to exert himself over the next three weeks and is to stay in bed until my next visit."

Toross rubbed the back of his neck. "When will this be? You know how impatient my brother can be. He will want to know the span of time."

"Soon." Elrond smiled slightly at the helpless look he received. "He must learn patience."

Toross nodded. "I will tell him of your instruction when I return home to him."

"Good. Is there something more you wish to tell me?" Elrond questioned.

"There is nothing more."

Elrond smiled gently. "Then go and care for your brother and tell him I am grateful for the gift and will put it to good use."

The elf gave a bow and Elrond watched him leave before stepping out in the still-empty corridor. But one elf remained standing by the entrance of the meeting hall. Elrond strode over the elf, arching an amused brow.

"The mighty Elvenking has led armies in battle, but could not even surpass the doorway. What doom awaits the woodland realm when the power of liquid strength fails."

Elrond grew concerned when Thranduil made no cutting remark or any sound at all, his eyes staring fervently ahead. He knew it was not sleep which held the Elvenking in such rapture. Elves were not horses. Not even full elves could sleep while standing.

A firm hand gripped his arm before he could contemplate further and Elrond was surprised to find damp blue-grey eyes staring imploringly into his own.

"My son is in trouble!"

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

Legolas backed himself against the tree as the twins drew closer. "I told you, I didn't tell anyone!"

"You are supremely bad at lying, Legolas." Elladan snapped, his calm façade gone. "Do you know what our ada will do to us if he finds out from yours what we told you?"

"No.." Legolas trailed off weakly.

"None of us do either. He's constantly changing punishments. One time he tried to throttle me because I got in a fight, and he grabbed Elrohir's arm so hard it bruised. We only agreed to come with him to Mirkwood because we're afraid of what he would do to us if we stayed home."

Elladan's eyes darkened and his mouth curled into a snarl. "You, prince, have practically sentenced us to death. And now you will pay for it. Ro, hold him down."

Legolas did not wait to find out what terrible thing the twins were going to do. Pushing off the tree, he ran out of the courtyard, jumping over small bushes and dodging overhead branches. He yelped when something tugged on his hair, and wrenched it from the sticky grip of a pine branch, barely breaking his stride. The quick footsteps still pursuing him spurred him onward past a stream and into the small ravine that led into to the woods.

Satisfied that he had outrun the twins, Legolas allowed himself a small moment to rest and catch his breath. He was terrified what the twins would do if they caught him, but Legolas knew he could go no further or he would be breaking one of the most important rules: do not go into the forest no matter what.

Not wanting to face his ada's wrath, Legolas walked to the very end of the ravine and sat down on a rock. It was well hidden behind a shoulder of compacted stone, so it was the safest place to be at the moment besides the palace. Legolas's stomach churned. Why didn't he run to the palace? Surely his ada would have done something to stop the twins and protect him, but instead, he chose to run somewhere remote where no one could help him. _Stupid._

The prince rested his head in his hands, shrugging. Why was this happening? Legolas remembered having so much fun whenever the twins visited. They used to be kind and friendly, never once threatening him unless it was in jest. Now they were unfriendly and mean-spirited. What changed them?

Legolas jumped to his feet and slowly stepped back toward the forest when he saw the twins running at him. There was nowhere left run. He must fight.

Resolutely, Legolas strode forward. He was small but perhaps he could use it to his advantage.

Elrohir tried to grab him first but Legolas dodged him, sliding between his legs. Quickly, he got to his feet and kicked the elf to ground. Elladan growled and ran at him, tackling the prince to the ground with his arms, but Legolas took advantage of this moment and freed one of his legs, kicking him in the chest. Legolas watched him lying there gasping for only a brief second before rounding on Elrohir coming up behind him. He dodged the blows but one of them managed to impact his chest, striking the healing muscle.

Legolas cried out and elbowed Elladan in the face, causing the elf to wince in pain.

"Fighting us is useless, Legolas. We are stronger and bigger than you are," Elladan said, kicking out toward one of the elfling's legs.

Legolas dodged the first kick, but the other knocked him off balance onto his stomach. Groaning, Legolas raised his head, but no one was not there.

"No, please!" Legolas struggled uselessly against twins, his terror mounting as their strength easily outmatched weak punches and kicks as rolled him onto his back, pinning down his arms and legs.

"Please, I'll talk to my ada and he won't tell him. I promise!" Legolas whimpered, close to tears. For the twins to try this hard to capture him, they must have something horrible planned for him. Legolas was sure of it.

"That won't work," one of them (Legolas did not know which at that moment) said, and pulled out something that made Legolas's heart stop and his struggles cease before they renewed tenfold.

"Hold him still," Elladan barked, unsheathing the knife.

"No! Please don't do this!" Legolas screamed as loud as he could. But he knew he was miles away from the palace, which meant no one would hear his cries. His only chance was gone.

Heart thudding in his ribcage, he watched them bring the knife closer. More than anything, Legolas wished that his ada were here to save him.

"This will hurt, but you'll just grow it back. You are an elf aren't you?" Elrohir asked nonchalantly, apparently believing that elves were part lizard.

Legolas fervently shook his head. "I can't grow it back!" he ground out, trying to squirm away.

"Shame," Elladan replied, though Legolas heard no remorse in his voice. "Well, perhaps next time you will think twice about tattling on us." Elladan glanced at his brother. "Ro."

"No," Legolas squeaked as the knife was positioned over his hand.

Then, tears clouded his vision.

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**Author's note: Feel free to review, fav, and follow this story.**

**Next update: Friday!**


	7. Chapter 7: Close Encounter

**Author's note: I hope the wait was not too unbearable.**** Enjoy the Friday update!**

**Thank you to all the fantabulous people who reviewed the last chapter:** **AraneltheSilvan, MariaJulietBituin, Nina, leelee202, TeenMuggle, and last but not least.. Nurayy.(I'm going to be bolding your names from now on. It's easier to see, despite what I thought) Also, a huge thank you to all those who have favorited and followed this story. You matter to me just as much! I am so happy you all are enjoying this story and I hope to always be providing you with quality work. Now... on with the chapter!**

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Chapter Seven: Close Encounter

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

A flash of burgundy streaked past him and the pressure pinning his body disappeared, followed with a grunt. Legolas did not take the time to wipe his eyes, for the voice he heard had been Elrond's. He also did not see his father running toward him at breakneck speed, because of his blurry vision. Instead, all he saw was a clear path ahead and jumped to his feet, running full throttle out of the ravine. He did not look back.

Thranduil helplessly watched Legolas flee, his arms aching to hold and comfort him. But he knew his limited strength would not allow him to follow at such a pace. In fact, the only thing keeping his body upright was the adrenaline still pumping strongly through his veins, and that would soon be depleted now that his son was free.

Elrond pushed against the ground and rose to his feet, fixing his children with a murderous glare, almost mirroring the Elvenking's expression as he stared down in disgust at the two elves(too ashamed to even think of them as elves anymore or even as his children), one sprawled out on his side and the other lying flat on his back, either ashamed or afraid(Elrond did not know which) to look him in the eye. Good. Let them be afraid, he thought. They deserve it. His children would know the level of fear Legolas experienced.

And what better way of ensuring it than giving the task to an impartial King. It was, after all, only right for the father of the one who was wronged to enact judgment upon those who wronged him.

The elf lord came up to Thranduil, staring him in the eye even as he steadied the Elvenking with a hand.

"Thranduil, I know my actions in the past were not pleasing to you, but you must believe that I only did what I believed was right." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I know not why your son harbors such fear of me, but he is surely in a state of panic now and without protection. Please allow me to go after your son and bring him safely to you. I am certain I can earn back his trust if given time."

It was a simply worded petition, but the Elvenking heard the desperation in the peredhel's tone. He knew that Elrond sought redemption for his actions against his own sons, and even with Legolas. Elrond was not as good at hiding those abyssal emotions as he thought. Though Thranduil was still in the dark as to how Elrond played a part in that or if he had a part at all, and he needed to know as soon as possible. But more than anything, his son needed to be found and brought to the safety of the stronghold. Only then would Legolas be truly safe.

Thranduil gave a curt nod, but before Elrond left he said one final thing to him. "My children are now in your hands, deal with them however you wish."

"They will receive a just punishment at my hand, you can be sure of that."

Elrond thought of something more. "All I ask is that you do not have them lashed. I fear they are too young to withstand the level of pain such a punishment would bring."

Thranduil saw the flash of fear in the twins' eyes and knew that Elrond spoke the truth. "I promise I will not send them to the stake but had you not asked me, I might have done so." Thranduil said this in both, a warning to the twins and to give Elrond a way to gauge the level of his anger.

Elrond nodded in assent, and no more time to waste, ran off to find Legolas.

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

The garden path was nothing less than breathtaking. Rose covered archways lined a circular path under oak and birch trees, and at a certain time of day, the sun would be moving behind them, its light pulsing as someone moved down the path. Now it hovered above, bathing the path in golden light and a brilliant glittering of colors from the inlaid gem fragments. Visiting elves had said that it's a little piece of Lothlórien. Perhaps that was the design's purpose, but Legolas wasn't really interested in why it was there. He was too young to find such details important. All Legolas saw was the beauty before him. Being close to nature gave Legolas a sense of peace that nothing could and brightened even his most sour moods.

However, all the peace and warmth couldn't take away the memories of what happened. Legolas had gone over and over again in his mind if the twins would have stopped themselves in time, but there was never one answer. Their cold-hearted actions hurt him deeply and frightened him equally as much. Could he ever trust them again? Why did they try to hurt him? Would they do it again if they could? Perhaps, but if his ada banished them forever from their realm, they would never harm him again.

Legolas shook himself. It did little good to speculate on the actions of adults. They were often surprising. Besides, Legolas didn't really want that to happen because, despite their actions, he had so many fond memories of them and would miss the twins terribly if he never got to see them again. His ada always said that he was too forgiving.

Legolas could not forget what he'd felt when he was fighting them. The second he elbowed Elladan in the face, a terrible sensation overtook him and something seemed to latch onto his spirit. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, as if something was trying to suck the life out of him, and for a second, Legolas could not draw breath. Then it let go. At the time, Legolas did not care why it did so, but now he questioned it. Could it be that something inside of him repelled it? Was it inhabiting the twins and that's why they tried to hurt him?

Legolas shook his head. He may be young and inexperienced, but he was well aware of what wishful thinking was. The twins tried to hurt him of their own free will and no imaginary force made them do it. That was that, and he ignored the nagging of his brain telling him otherwise.

All he needed now was something to get his mind off of everything, and Legolas knew exactly what that would be. Straying from the garden path, he stepped onto the moist grass continuing in that direction until he reached the lake. A gorgeous white swan was gliding through the pristine water, the sky making its color appear a deep shade of blue that sharply contrasted with the swan's virgin white feathers.

Legolas sought out her hatchlings and found them huddled a few feet away from the embankment, approaching with cautious steps. Legolas knew the father was not far from his clutch and was likely watching him. The prince had been taught to give wild animals their space, but it was an inherent part of all elfling's to know how to bring themselves into it without being a threat. Adults could do so as well, but animals were often untrusting of them if they had ever killed. Killing left a mark upon one's soul, one that animals can sense like the stench of rotting meat, making them wary to approach or trust.

Legolas could not understand why his ada was different though. Whenever he took a walk with him through the forest, no animal seemed timid or afraid of the king. They climbed onto his lap and let him pet their fur, or even slept near him, completely at peace in his presence. Why his ada—someone who leads armies into war and slaughters hundreds of enemies—was able to approach an animal without them bolting, much less perching on his shoulder, was a mystery.

Legolas lowered himself to the ground until he was sitting, and waited. The longer he did so proved to their watchful father that he was trustworthy. After about five minutes, he gently scooped up one of the cygnets in his hands, brushing his fingers against the soft small feathers. They were a shade darker than their mother's and not yet fully feathers, only pure downy. Despite Legolas's actions, the mother stayed nearby feeding herself now that her clutch was fed, trusting the elf to keep them safe. Her cygnets were only a week old, not yet old enough to eat the aquatic insects and crustaceans their mother ate.

Smiling softly, Legolas continued to stroke its feathers. He had chosen this particular cygnet because it was still awake, but Legolas saw its eyes drooping with each stroke of his hand, and before long, the small heartbeat gently thudding against his palm evened out.

"Rest little one, I will keep you safe," Legolas said softly, putting the cygnet down where it could rest with its brothers and sisters, who were now _all_ nestled against his chest, preferring the warmth. Legolas took comfort in it and bent his arm beneath his head, eyes roving over each of the sleeping hatchlings.

Legolas felt a tiny kick to his chest and looked down to find one of the cygnets twitching, Another kick followed by a cheep of what sounded like distress told Legolas what was likely happening.

All the noise brought the father waddling over to his clutch. He intently stared Legolas in the eye before nudging the cygnet with his beak. It did nothing.

"Please, allow me," Legolas said and delicately brushed his hand over its small body, speaking gently. "Hush little one, you are safe."

The cheeping quieted and the father settled down beside his sleeping hatchlings. Legolas also resumed his watch, now committed to looking out for any sounds or movements of distress. Legolas knew from extensive experience that nightmares were not pleasant and he would save them from them if he could.

A stirring of the water brought Legolas to attention and he shifted it to the lake to find the mother swan coming over to him. She glanced down at her sleeping hatchlings in apparent satisfaction and lowered her head to the elf before settling down beside her mate.

Legolas knew that she was telling him that his role had been fulfilled and he could leave now that she was back, but he didn't exactly want to leave and conveyed this to her by lightly stroking one of the cygnets' soft feathery heads and moving his arm closer toward her clutch. This told the mother that he was interested in their wellbeing and was not ready to leave them yet.

Legolas stayed a few hours longer and then stood. Animals were not like elves. They did not need a goodbye or a friendly greeting when someone was leaving or arriving. All they cared about was the action itself. And so, without giving a farewell, Legolas began making his way toward the path again. There was a good chance his ada might worry if he were gone too long. Then again, when he told him what happened to him in the ravine, the prince was certain the worry of being late would pale in comparison. One more short walk around the garden was in order.

This would be the last one, for nature could not take away one thing. The loneliness. No, that wasn't exactly the right word. The solitude. Though the walk had been welcome for a while and the visit to the baby cygnets a relaxing and inspiring experience, the elfling began to feel increasingly nervous to be alone. Now his steps were growing hesitant, and more than once he had turned around sharply after sensing someone behind him and found nothing there.

_Perhaps I am just being silly_, Legolas thought, _Elrond would not come here._

The prince continued to think positive thoughts but the sinking feeling in his gut would not leave him alone. _Why not? _a voice in his mind spoke_. Elrond loves nature as much as you do and finds pleasure walking that you never could. He may be just a little behind you. He could even be right behind you. _

Legolas spun sharply around in response to the tugging of his mind, but there was still no one there.

The beauty of the garden now diluted, Legolas disregarded the idea of completing his walk and began making his way back to the palace. The prince was still far away from his destination when a new fear gripped him.

Legolas stumbled backward and blinked multiple times, disbelieving of the sight before him.

The elf he most feared was standing before him. If said elf was speaking, Legolas did not know, for at that moment the elfling spotted a way out and ran behind him. The half-elf was quicker though and grabbed him by the arm, eliciting a scream.

The dark-haired elf had not planned on letting go of Legolas's arm then, but something hard hit him on the head, causing his grip to loosen and allowing Legolas to slip out of it and escape. Rubbing his head, the elf knelt down to examine the offending object near his feet.

An acorn.

The elf dropped it with a sigh and ran after the boy. Being faster with longer legs, he easily caught up to him about halfway down the path.

The Dark-haired elf stood still, knowing the slightest movement would make the boy run. He noticed, with a stab of regret, the poor attempt at hiding his fear. Legolas looked positively terrified of him and his body was trembling violently as if he were freezing cold. But that was not possible, his mind chided. He is afraid of you and the best thing you can do is to leave him alone. _But I can't leave him alone_, he challenged. _I caused this somehow and I need to fix it, no matter how much time or effort it takes._

Legolas spoke shakily. "Please don't hurt me," he pleaded, voice almost a whine. "I p-promise I won't tell my ada what you have done if you just l-let me go, I swear it!"

The dark-haired elf spoke complacently, inching toward him at almost a snail's pace with his hands raised non-threateningly. "Legolas, I promise I won't hurt you. I only want to talk."

"N-no, I don't believe you," Legolas replied boldly.

The peredhel frowned and took one more step.

"Legolas I only want to talk with you about what my sons did to you."

"It's fine," he lied.

"No, it is not even close to fine, Legolas," Elrond replied. "You are just saying anything to get me to leave you, and I cannot do so for your ada has asked me to find you and bring you to him."

Legolas did not believe it. "My ada is in the palace."

"Perhaps he is now, but I followed your ada into the ravine."

Elrond saw the recognition and continued. "That's right, your ada saw everything and is probably with my children as we speak. He will punish them severally, I have no doubt of that, but they deserve it after treating you so cruelly."

Legolas still didn't look him in the eye and his muscles were still tense in preparation to flee.

"Legolas, I need to you put your trust in me, no matter how frail. Just until you are home and then you can hate me all you want." Elrond ignored the hurt these words caused him.

"I w-want my ada," Legolas ground out.

"Your ada is very exhausted and cannot come to get you. I am your only choice."

"You will hurt me, I don't want you!"

Elrond took the barest step forward, speaking gently. "I would never hur…. Legolas!" Elrond grabbed the boy just in time before he fell backward.

Mistake number one was trying to wake Legolas. The second, was not fleeing right after doing so.

Elrond winced as a few acorns hit his head and one of his cheeks. He stared upward, angry at the trees and searching for the menacing squirrels. "What was that for?!" he shouted.

The dark-haired elf pulled his cloak over them both and managed to mostly shield Legolas with part of his arm as acorns and pinecones pelted them from all directions. It didn't take him long to realize that squirrels were not at fault here, but trees. Legolas was also in absolutely no danger of being hit, for the trees were excellent marksmen.

The pelting grew in intensity and really hurt now, the cloak giving little protection at these speeds. A sharp pain erupted from his hand and Elrond looked down to find a red line extending from his right wrist to his thumb. Elrond had no choice. He ran out of there with the elfling in his arms, trying in vain to dodge the projectiles along the way until he made it to the entrance.

Elrond's body ached everywhere when he arrived. Grumbling, he tore out the pinecones from his ebony mane and shook out his robes best he could with the precious bundle in his arms..

He took a quick inventory of injuries. Legolas was unharmed, as expected, but he himself had acquired a few new cuts and bruises; some of which in places that should only be treated with kindness! Elrond tore off a strip of fabric from his cloak and wrapped it around his hand. Then, he forced any pain to the back of his mind so he could think straight.

Even far away from those particular trees, the elf lord knew there were others he would have to pass by in order to get to the palace. And he was not looking forward to it. Elrond, Lord of Imladris, was now the enemy of the trees of Mirkwood all because they believed he hurt their prince, and he really didn't want to find out if the other trees felt the same way after spotting their prince unconscious in his arms.

So he did the only thing that came to the mind of an elf of his station and intelligence. Elrond ran as if the very hounds of hell were at his heels...

* * *

**Author's note: The baby swan(or cygnet) scene was so fun to write! Poor Legolas can't get a break, but at least he has all his fingers, right? What do you think Thranduil will do to the twins? I have already decided, but just for fun.. tell me your theories!**

**Next update: either Friday or Saturday! **


	8. Chapter 8: The Worst Punishment

I wanted to address a few things that reader earthdragon(cool name!) said because it may or may not be what you've been thinking. First off, I have written this story as a stand-alone, so a prologue is not necessary. In fact, and this may be a bit bold, but you will understand everything by the end and why it happened. Second, this is not meant to be a thriller, hence the genre. But it will deliver the angst you all want while being thriller-like, I suppose. Though, fluffy moments are a must sometimes. This is for two reasons, but I will only speak of one. Legolas is a child of nature, and especially in his younger years he was near animals a lot, so including that in the story may have spoiled the thriller aspect for some of you, but it was in-character for Legolas to do and necessary to include.

Finally, the twins did NOT say that their father whipped them (I don't know where you could have read that) only that he tried to throttle one of them—which you heard Elrond mention—and grabbed one of them roughly. I admit it was tempting not to have Elrond do something slightly more terrible to the twins.. you know, to make it more realistic and ratchet up the angst. But I realized it would be out of character. Even afflicted with shadow sickness, Elrond was able to somewhat control himself and reign in that aggression. I feel this is most true to his character.

**On a happier note, we hit the 40 review mark! Thank you to all the awesome people who reviewed the last chapter and made this milestone possible: AraneltheSilvan, Nurayy, earthdragon, MariaJulietBituin, Nina, leelee202, and margie-me. Enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Eight: The Worst Punishment

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Sullen flames suffocated by shadow danced across stone, the striking of footsteps a thunderstorm in the cavernous bowels of the palace.

So it was that the Elvenking entered the dungeons. But not the usual dungeons. No. No light, save that of the cold light of the torches along the pathway, existed. Prisoners sent here were rarely elves unless they proved a great danger to others. This was because it was practically a death sentence for them. Without the light of the sun and the calming touch of nature, an elf started to become severely agitated, even with the plant life placed outside their cells. If a prisoner's stay extended to months, the stone surrounding them made them go mad.

The oppressive atmosphere affected every elf, even those who stood guard. Although, there was a stronger force inside the Elvenking that kept him from being affected by the prison of stone enclosing him in its grip. _Purpose._

The twin sons of Elrond would not know madness; it was beyond what they deserved. But they would learn a lesson that would never fade, even with time. With this thought, Thranduil's stepped into the dungeon, the ambient lighting allowing him to barely see his two prisoners. One was lying on the cot tucked into the far corner while the other paced the remainder of space. Both of them immediately snapped to attention when they noticed his presence.

"Where's Lord Elrond?" Elladan questioned, flinching when dark eyes sought him out. Elrohir stopped pacing.

Thranduil said not a word, standing in place and emotionlessly staring at his two prisoners.

The twins began to wish that their ada had come instead. Murderous glares were better than no emotion whatsoever. It was downright horrifying to see the Elvenking staring at them that way and they longed for when he would speak.

But minute by minute ticked by without so much as a throat clear or a blink, and the twins were growing more and more anxious as a result. Then, a single word cracked the silence in two, like an ominous and equally unexpected bolt of lightning.

"Why?"

Elladan was the first to speak. "Thranduil—"

"You have lost the privilege to address me by name," Thranduil replied icily.

Elladan cleared his throat. "Sire, I swear..."

Thranduil rounded on the one who spoke, eyes narrowing. "You swear? Do you think your promises mean anything to me?"

"We were not going to harm him, we only meant to frighten him," Elladan defended, his voice wisely never rising.

"That information is a comfort," Thranduil replied apathetically, absently running his finger over a fissure in the stone. "You know, Legolas told me what you were going to do to him. At the time I thought his imagination had run wild, but never in my wildest dreams would I ever _imagine_ that you both could do something so cruel and deplorable. Over what, a secret. Something you should have never told him. But instead of blaming yourselves for your utter stupidity, you blamed my son."

"Lord Elrond cannot bring himself to even look upon you." he continued. "I can barely stomach the sight of you myself, but I am not here for myself. I'm here for my son, who, at this moment, cannot be found."

Both twins stayed silent, which irked Thranduil even more than if they had spoken.

"Let me make one thing clear. The only reason I am not having you bound to a stake and lashed is because your father begged me for clemency on your behalf. But if I find out my son ran into the forest because of you, I will break that promise." Legolas was not yet skilled enough to take on the dangers of the tainted forest. If he were to venture into it, the king was certain the next he laid eyes on his son would be through a cocoon of webbing. Thranduil shoved this thought from his mind.

His words garnered a reaction, but only one of the twins seemed to even hear him. The other was just staring blankly ahead, not offering any kind of response. Well, he was about to procure one from him.

Thranduil dug into his pocket for the key and unlocked the cell door. "Follow me," he told them, and brought the twins over to the table and two chairs he had especially brought in, all in the vicinity of the cell. The twins looked at them in confusion.

Thranduil noted this confusion and lifted one of the chairs, putting it out of view. "Which one of you held the knife to my son's hand?"

"I did." There was no hesitation in the voice that spoke and not a drop of remorse. Elrohir was about to take his seat, but Thranduil stopped him.

"Then you will remain standing. Elladan, take your seat." Thranduil watched the twin do just that and then freed his sword. The normally quiet hiss of metal was a reckoning in the stone cavern.

"W-what are you going to do to us?" They both spoke at once, Elrohir looking positively ashen next to his brother who was genuinely afraid.

Thranduil ignored them, and pulling out a small stone, he made sure the twins had a good view as he scraped it several times over the edge of his blade. Back and forth. Back and Forth. Once this had been done, he appraised it, tilting it against the dim glow of the light. Satisfied, he put the stone back into a small inner pocket in his sleeve and stepped forward.

It was then that the twins noticed the roll of bandages at the far corner of the table.

"Please, sire! Don't do this," Elladan said in a hushed tone. "I know we messed up, but surely this grievous transgression does not warrant us to be maimed?"

Thranduil grabbed them roughly by their shirts, the fabric yielding to his hands, voice almost a growl "How many times did my son beg and plead with you to spare him? How many times?"

Thranduil let them go, ignoring their downcast faces. "That's what I thought." He tried his best to ignore Legolas's screams in his mind and spoke again. "Elrohir, for assisting your brother in this heinous act, you will hold down his hands."

Elrohir blanched, understanding shining in his eyes. "But I didn't assist, I held the knife! You can't-"

"Oh, I most certainly can, and in accordance with the law, I will. And if at any point you try to release him, I will prolong his suffering." Thranduil knew that watching a loved one in pain was worse than feeling it yourself. In this way, Elrohir would suffer far worse than his brother.

Elrohir swallowed and nodded, giving his brother a silent apology even as tears welled in his eyes.

"Please, King Thranduil," Elladan spoke up, his voice hoarse, "I will no longer be able to fight with a blade if you do this."

"That is not my concern," Thranduil replied coldly, gesturing to the other twin who hesitantly gripped his brother's wrist. "Don't worry, the sharp blade of my sword will cut cleanly through and lessen the pain, unlike the blunt dagger you threatened to use on my son. And unlike Legolas, you at least will have the small comfort of your brother."

Hope entered Elladan's voice. "Then if you knew the blade was blunt, you know we could never have used it on him."

"I am only aware of such a detail because your father informed me of it. But Legolas could not have ever known. His fear was real. And now yours will be."

He turned to the other twin. "Elrohir, I want you to bend all but one of his fingers and then hold him absolutely still."

Elrohir did so, still making perfuse apologies with his eyes. He held Thranduil's gaze, the fire that had been there earlier, extinguished.

"Please, Elladan did nothing but hold him down. I am the one who held the blade to your son's hand. I beg of you, punish me instead."

Thranduil ignored the pleas and carefully placed the sword over the singular appendage. He would not need any practice swings. He spoke one final time. "Don't worry, you can just grow it back." The wince from Elrohir told Thranduil that the cutting words had their desired effect and he raised the blade, bringing it down with all of his strength.

Elladan screamed in pure pain.

Unknowingly, Elrohir screamed in time with his brother, his body shaking with sobs. He did not hear Thranduil's voice telling him to release him and continued to kneel down on the ground, holding his brother the best he could.

Elladan clutched onto his brother hard, sobbing into his shoulder as he cradled his bleeding hand near his chest.

"How could you do such a terrible thing," Elrohir whined, gently rocking his brother in his arms. "Elladan did not maim Legolas in any way. Now he will never be able to fight again. You have ruined his life forever!" Elrohir exclaimed, lifting his head away from his brother's. But the Elvenking was no longer standing there.

"I cannot b-believe our..father would allow this. We are truly a-lone," Elladan said.

Elrohir only cried harder. "Even the king has left us."

"He did what he c..ame here to do."

The bite left Elrohir's voice and he stroked his brother's wet cheek. " Will you allow me to bind your hand, El?"

The nod against his shoulder was all that Elrohir needed and he picked up the bandage, unrolling a decent amount of it before tearing it into a manageable strip ."Let me see your hand."

Elladan pulled his hand away from his chest, though slowly, taking his time and wincing at the movement.

"It's alright, take all the time you need," Elrohir said, and patiently waited for his brother to extend his arm, which trembled violently.

"I'm so sorry, El, this is all my fault. It should have been me." He paused. "You know, I am not even afraid of ada knowing what we did anymore."

"You don't think he will punish me, do you?" Elladan asked shakily.

Elrohir gently grabbed his brother's shoulders, meeting his eyes. "You have been punished enough, even he will see that."

"But what if he doesn't? What if he hurts me again, Ro?"

"He won't because I am going to hide you. That way he will have no choice but to punish me alone. Once I finish wrapping your hand I will help you to your bed and give you a strong sleeping herb that will dull the pain. I will not leave your side, and when you awaken your... stub will be stitched and you will be somewhere safe until I can come for you. I do not know what work you will take up when we get home. Frankly, I do not want to go back there. After the wound has healed over I think we should leave this place and go to Lothlórien. The Lord and Lady of light will not turn us away and we never have to see our father a-" A gasp interrupted any further words.

"What is it Elladan?" Elrohir asked. "Is the pain worse?"

"No, it's my hand... look at it."

Elrohir wiped his own eyes. "I know it looks ugly now, but it will look much better when I stitch you," he responded.

"No, look!" Elladan showed his hand to his brother.

Elrohir's eyes blew wide. "Y-your finger's... they are all fine? But.. but how?"

"I do not know. I felt the blade penetrate my flesh. Did you see it?"

"I could not watch, but I heard you scream."

"It was agonizing," Elladan admitted. "But now I feel nothing. What did he do to me, Ro?"

Elrohir touched the long split in the wood carved right near the area where his brother's hand was. "I believe I know."

* * *

**Author's note: The threat of a punishment can often be worse than the punishment itself. Would you say that the twins have thoroughly been punished and learned their lesson?**

**Next update: Friday!**


	9. Chapter 9: Error in Judgment

**Author's note: So sorry about taking so long to update. I have been on an island for two 1/2 days and the week before that I was packing for the trip. No technology except a phone, and no WIFI made writing virtually impossible on the island! But this has also been the hardest chapter I have ever had to write, so that's partly to blame as well. However, I am confident that you will find that the wait was worth it. For those of you who were confused about what happened or why Thranduil behaved so strangely in the last chapter, see the end note of this chapter.**

**Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter: Nina, AraneltheSilvan, MariaJulietBituin, and guest(I am going to do a little deductive reasoning and say that you are TeenMuggle). I will catch up on responding to reviews, but I may not find every one considering all the mail I get everyday. But I will try. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Nine: Error in Judgment

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Thranduil awoke to a few quick raps on his door. Groaning, he pushed himself onto his feet and opened it to find a sight that stripped the air from his lungs.

"Bring him." Thranduil walked ahead over to his son's bed, watching intently as the peredhel gently set Legolas down. "What happened?" he asked tersely.

Elrond took note of the Elvenking's ramrod back and stiff shoulders, knowing that what he was about to reveal would be hard to hear. But he had no choice. He spoke gently, not wanting to fray the edges of the Elvenking's mind anymore than they already had been. "Legolas collapsed before I could catch him in time but there are no internal injuries, I am certain of this. He will have a headache when he wakes up and mild bruising, and for that, I couldn't be more disappointed in myself. I apologize for failing your son in this way," he lamented.

Thranduil was angry, but he knew he couldn't blame Elrond for following his orders. Legolas's injuries were on him, for if he were not feeling so weak, the king would have gone himself. "I am certain you gave it your best effort, Elrond," Thranduil said levelly, searching for lumps on his son's head. When he found a small one, he lowered him back onto the pillow with a sigh.

Elrond spoke abruptly, his foreboding tone causing an adverse reaction in the light-haired elf. "I was wrong. I was very wrong, Thranduil."

The Elvenking didn't turn from his son. "Speak plainly, Elrond, what mistake have you made?" he asked irritably. It was uncharacteristic for the elf lord to speak without precursor. Usually, his timing was impeccable and he never blurted anything out unless it couldn't be delivered any other way.

"I told you that my sons were not yet of age to handle the severity of the lash. I told you to spare them. But now I have come to see the error in such a judgment."

Thranduil was confused. Why was the Noldor bringing up corporal punishment again? And mentioning his sons in the same sentence no less. "Elrond, you are not making sense, perhaps you should take rest."

"No!" Elrond's tone softened. "I thank you for your concern, but I am well."

Thranduil couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You clearly are not. You are saying that you wish for your sons to be put to the lash when you yourself told me of the fallacies of such a decision."

"I know I did, but I have changed my mind," Elrond replied. "It pains me to say this, but after seeing how much torment they put Legolas through, it is only right that Elrohir and Elladan should be punished properly for this senseless act. Time in the dungeon is not good enough."

Thranduil stepped away from his son, coming to stand in front of the healer. "Elrond, I may have been angry and wanted to do so myself before, but now that anger has passed and I see clearly. Your sons swore to me that they had never meant to harm Legolas, only frighten him. And while I believe this deserves a harsher punishment than usual it does not deserve a beating."

Elrond freed something coiled from his robe and Thranduil recognized it immediately.

The Elvenking moved closer to the elf lord until they were face to face, leaving a small portion of room between them. "You cannot be serious!" Thranduil almost hissed. "The punishment for harming a royal is to be whipped till bloody. Twenty lashes. From what I have observed they are not of age to take such pain."

Elrond pointed towards the bed. "Look at your son, Thranduil. They frightened the poor child half to death and if you let them escape your wrath there is no telling what they will do to him next time. They must be taught this lesson, however cruel."

The dark-haired elf stepped forward towards the door but Thranduil put his body between them.

"Do not fight me on this, Thranduil," Elrond warned. "They are my children and mine to discipline however I see fit."

"You are right, they are your children," Thranduil acquiesced, and the elf lord nodded in appreciation. "Had you been in your realm I would not stop you, but this is Mirkwood and only the king enacts punishment here." The dark haired elf was now scowling at him. "And I say their father's judgment is flawed so they will be spared from this unjust fate." Thranduil crossed his arms, daring for the elf lord to challenge his decision.

"I am their father, not you. You have no right!" Elrond roared.

Thranduil spoke again, disgust in his voice as he leveled his gaze to the whip and then to the dark-haired elf. "I would rather cut off my own arm than use that thing on my child. There was a time you believed much the same, but you have changed. How can you even consider doing such a monstrous thing to your own flesh and blood!?"

"I have already done it."

Before Thranduil could say more, Elrond pulled out a white handkerchief from his robe and grazed it along the inner edge of the wicked tool. The pure satin morphed into a dark red before the king's very eyes. "You are right," he said. "They did not handle their punishment well, but they endured it bravely."

Up until now, Thranduil had been struck mute, but he gained the ability to speak and did so only a few inches away from the elf lord's face, his eyes darkening menacingly. "My son was right to fear you," he growled.

"He is a child and like all children he fears what he does not understand. Just like his father. You and your people fear The Shadow because you do not understand it. You do not understand the benefits it brings, the power."

"There is no power in darkness, only a false sense of security. Even now you are being drained, thrown away like every other fell servant." He paused. "You are right about one thing though, I did not understand what you have become until now. Now I see that the kind hearted healer of Imladris has not graced my halls, but an imposter."

Something shifted in the Elvenking's demeanor then. He was no longer an observer but a lion primed for an attack. "I will stop you before you hurt another living soul and keep you in my dungeons until you tell me what you did to my son. When you tire of the maddening stone and darkness you will tell me everything or I will loosen your tongue myself."

Thranduil didn't realize how much these words were going to hurt but shoved those feelings down, not wanting to give Elrond the slightest inkling that he was distressed. To Thranduil's surprise, tears came rolling down the elf lord's cheeks.

"I know you will, mellon nin."

Before Thranduil could utter another word a sword was thrust deep into his chest.

"Elron..." Thranduil collapsed backwards to the ground, taking in big heaving gasps as he clutched his chest, deeply fearing each one would be his last. He knew that his heart was punctured. There was no mistaking it. But if he could kill Elrond before he got to Legolas... Legolas... he needed to survive for Legolas.

"Do not bother screaming for the guards. They will not hear you." Elrond ripped the sword free, causing Thranduil to lurch upward with a groan.

Thranduil blinked back the haze and was able to make out Elrond standing above him, blood—his blood dripping from the sword held at his side as he mouthed the words that chilled Thranduil to his core: your son is next.

A guttural gurgle was the only sound of protest Thranduil could make before he knew no more.

* * *

The Noldor did not slow his pace even as he reached the palace grounds, expecting all the trees in the vicinity to start the hail of pinecones and nuts. Though if he had been thinking logically, he would have realized that the trees close to the palace had not seen their exchange in the garden and would only inquire as to the elfling's condition. However, panic and haste fueled the healer's legs and led him directly to Thranduil's chambers.

Once there, he made a few quick raps on the door and waited.

Elrond winced as he heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground hard. He contemplated barging in without permission in case the Elvenking somehow knocked himself out, but then a groan was heard, followed by the sluggish pounding of feet across the hard marble floors before the door opened slowly. Thranduil stood at the door, curiously staring at the being who dare wake him for all but a split second before his eyes found that which the elf lord carried.

"….Legolas!" Thranduil breathed, hovering his hand over his son's limp body.

"Calm yourself, Thranduil. Legolas is merely unconscious," Elrond soothed. "Though his pulse is slightly faster than normal, there are no injuries."

Thranduil gathered his precious burden into his arms without a word and set him gently on the bed as if he was afraid he would break. The peredhel came to stand beside him, but Thranduil drew his sword before he could get close enough.

Elrond's eyes widened in bewilderment. "I don't understand..."

Thranduil spoke calmly, giving no indication of the anger swirling beneath. "I let my guard down once, but never again. This is the second time you have returned my son in this state." One of the Valar had clearly given the king a second chance and he was not going to waste it.

"Thranduil, that is impossible. I have only just come to your chambers," Elrond replied, puzzled by the turn of events. It wasn't as if he had a twin. Well, one that was alive, anyway.

"Lies," Thranduil barked. "You told me you couldn't catch my son in time before he fell unconscious."

"Assuming that is true, he would have visible bruising at the base of his skull. Do you see such marks now?"

Thranduil lifted Legolas' head and felt beneath it for any lumps. When there were none he stared at the elf lord quizzically, doubting his own actions thus far. Could he have been mistaken?

"There are none, are there?" Thranduil didn't reply, so Elrond kept speaking. "I never allowed your son to fall. Nor would I ever. If I had to I would have thrown my own body down and allowed him to fall on me. It would not matter if a few bones were broken so long as your son remained unharmed." Elrond saw recognition and acknowledgment enter the once untrusting gaze of the Elvenking, But it all disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Thranduil, what are you doing?" Elrond questioned the distraught Elvenking that was digging in his robes, searching every pocket.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"The whip. I know you have it!"

Elrond took a step back, completely mortified. "What whip? Why do you think I carry something like that?"

"You beat your sons with it and it is drenched in their blood," Thranduil replied, still searching.

Elrond was not expecting those words; not in the least. His legs began to shake, the simple task of keeping his body upright now an arduous struggle, and a few seconds later he collapsed into the chair behind him.

"..Valor. No, I couldn't-" he rasped.

The shadow sickness could not have taken hold of him again. He left the branch back in Rivendell, safely hidden away in his study where no one could find it. Since arriving in Mirkwood, Elrond felt none of its affects, but with what Thranduil told him, he was now unsure that he was not still under control of that sinister force. Could he have done it?

"You are infected with Shadow sickness," Thranduil replied, as if clairvoyant to the peredhel's thoughts. "You could not control yourself."

Elrond looked perturbed. "I thought you said you could sense no darkness in me."

"I did, but now i'm not so sure."

Elrond ran a hand down his face, exasperated. "I want to see this for myself," Jumping to his feet, he left through the chamber doors, cutting the Elvenking's search short.

Thranduil did not go after him, knowing with certainty where the elf lord was heading and more importantly, that he would be back. Twenty minutes later, the door creaked open, affirming this.

Thranduil spoke first. "It would be in your best interest to produce the whip, wherever you have hidden it."

In one fluid motion, Elrond threw off his robes and tossed the bundle to him. "Search them." With that, he proceeded to strip off the rest of his clothes while the Elvenking dug through them, searching the garments that had even small folds to ensconce things behind, before sighing in defeat.

"It is not.." Thranduil averted his gaze. "I did not ask you to take off all your clothes, Elrond," Thranduil replied, tossing the elf lord his garments.

Elrond quickly dressed, though Thranduil found it odd when he spied his sword on the ground, the belt attached to it. Could Elrond possess another weapon? No, that was impossible for Thranduil had searched even Elrond's shoes and found nothing. Maybe Elrond opted for strangulation?

"You needed to be sure. I needed to be sure." Elrond replied mildly and drew abreast of Thranduil, carefully calculating the exact placement of his body.

The peredhel knew a secret about the Elvenking, one that no one in middle earth knew. After the dragon Smaug attacked, half of the king's body was burned beyond saving, including one of his eyes which clouded over with a smoky white haze, never to see again. Because of this handicap, the body compensated for it by giving Thranduil incredible peripheral vision in his right eye. But Elrond knew of a weakness; a blindspot. And if he stood within that small margin when the Elvenking's head was still he would not be seen.

Without hesitating, Elrond withdrew a small dagger from his sleeve and drew it across the Elvenking's palm.

In less than a second, the elf lord was on the ground, hands firmly grasped around his neck.

"You should have finished the job, Noldor!" Thranduil hissed, straddling the elf lord tightly to keep his arms from moving. Elrond did nothing, not even trying to struggle. It perturbed the king to see no fear in the elf lord's eyes and he wondered why, with his hands around his pounding jugular, did Elrond look so calm. "Do you have any last words before I finish you?"

After receiving a nod Thranduil loosened his grip just enough for Elrond to speak, warning him with his gaze that he better do it quickly.

"Thranduil, listen to me," he began, trying to get his throat to work again. "You are still in a sleep-like state. What I did was only to wake you from it, but it appears not to have worked. I believe you are reliving a vivid dream, brought on by the extreme exhaustion from lending so much of your energy to your son. And since you possess such a strong desire to kill me, in turn, I must have killed you in this dream." Elrond saw a flicker of doubt enter the Elvenking's murderous depths and he continued, taking notice of the direction his body was facing. "And I must have threatened your son."

Thranduil scoffed. "Am I supposed to be impressed? You were there, of course you know all of this."

Elrond swore under his breath. If he couldn't manage to convince Thranduil of his innocence very soon he was as good as dead. He scoured his mind for anything he could use to turn the tide. He smiled inwardly when he found it.. something Thranduil could not argue against.

"Thranduil, you said I... beat my sons. But when I visited them in the dungeon their skin was unbroken. Check with the guards if you do not believe me." Elrond saw the seeds of doubts beginning to sprout in the Elvenking's mind, and continued unabated. "Your son is unharmed, my sons are unharmed. Furthermore, I have not tried to raise a finger against you when I could just as easily have taken you to the floor instead. My reflexes may not be as practiced as yours, but I could have easily slit your throat or for that matter, your wrist without you knowing what happened until it was too late. That blindspot of yours is a troublesome thing, isn't it."

Thranduil contemplated on that for a moment and realized that Elrond was telling the truth. He could have easily killed him with that knife, but instead he was allowing Thranduil to pin him down, not giving so much as the slightest struggle. Even now Elrond's eyes were no longer fixed on his but closed, as if calmly awaiting an inevitable death at the king's hand or waiting to be set free. Calm. Elrond was the very picture of calm, almost infuriatingly so. All throughout their exchange, the peredhel's pulse never rose but stayed an even rhythm, denoting that everything he said could be the truth. But there was no way of knowing that everything uttered was the pure unadulterated truth. Unless...

"What did you do to my son?"

Elrond's eyes snapped open and a fire burned in them that had been dormant for centuries. "I do not have any idea! I.. swear to you on the life of my wife that I know nothing."

Thranduil released the elf lord's neck and picked himself off the floor with grace and ease. Images of golden armor and fire-bronzed skin assaulted the king's senses, causing all the hatred and anger that had been dwelling within him to be released all at once. When he spoke his tone was calm.

"I believe you."

"Thranduil, I-"

Then the dam burst.

Thranduil spun towards him, his features twisted in grief and anger. "OF COURSE YOU KNOW NOTHING! You have abandoned my son and this kingdom all to follow some whimsical whim of that foolish wizard Gandalf the Grey! But none of that matters! Not to you! You live in the land of peace, unmarred by ages of war and strife. I am alone in this fight against The Shadow that encroaches up my land and slaughters my kin every day in gruesome ways beyond my comprehension. Last midday one of the horses came back bearing her rider slumped over her back. An arrow was protruding from the rider's mangled back with a blood-soaked note attached, using the most flowery language to forewarn the King of the woodland realm that the spirits of his people would be crushed and molded into serving The Shadow. WAR is coming to my realm. My _son_ may die and I have no idea how to stop it since I can't figure out what is wrong with him because I spend precious little time with him, relying on strangers to tell him bedtime stories or dry his tears from the numerous nightmares; nightmares from living in this oppressive DARKNESS all the time! I'm not surprised he can't sleep. I barely get any either and now I am having dreams of you murdering everyone I love, my family, my people. The only vestiges of this world that keep me from sailing to the Grey Havens and leaving this damned world and everyone in it to their DOOM! There are very _few_ that still stand with me against the rising tide of darkness. You used to be one of them, a brother in arms that I could count on to shoulder the load with me, and now I am slowly being crushed under the weight of it because you have ABANDONED me all to sate a fear your DYING WIFE LEFT YOU!"

Thranduil covered his mouth, mortified with the acidic words he spewed. Elrond was unmoving, still lying flat on his back, but this time his hand was over his eyes.

Knowing no apology would be accepted, Thranduil strode back over to the bed.

Legolas was still unconscious, but at least he seemed peaceful through all the chaos. His son was so beautiful, taking a lot after his mother in the hair and the eyes in a way that was almost painful to see him so vulnerable. Taking his son's hand into his own unmarred one, he gently whispered into the little one's ear. "Please do not go where I cannot follow."

Thranduil tensed when his other hand was lifted. But relaxed when he felt the elf lord's presence beside him and the unmistakable sound of silk tearing.

Thranduil allowed Elrond to work in peace, his eyes never leaving his son. He thought about how Legolas would react if he knew Elrond was so close to him but silenced the thought before it took root, wanting to save himself from the mental screams. He just couldn't hear them right now... not after almost losing his son in that horrid nightmare. He thought back to his own poisonous words and inwardly winced. Elrond did not deserve the jab about his wife. He was just so angry with him, even after so many decades. Thranduil had thought that anger had cooled, but it apparently hadn't.

"I apologize."

"You are right. I have been afraid, afraid of leaving this world like she did and abandoning my children. That is why I have stayed, why I have walled myself inside my kingdom. Because I am afraid each time I leave my children it will be the last I ever see of them. I thought if I took up safer work I could prolong my life for my children. I couldn't bear telling my wife of my failure and seeing the profound disappointment in her eyes. The funny thing is, she likely hates me more than you do for abandoning Elrohir and Elladan to their grief."

"No, do not say that," Thranduil said firmly. "You did what you could for your sons while grieving."

"I could have done more."

"True. I do not know of a parent who has been able to say otherwise," Thranduil replied. "But you tried. After Nariyath died I closed myself off from the world and left my son to deal with his grief alone. That is something I will always regret."

"This life is full of regrets."

None of them said anything more for a few minutes. Then, Elrond spoke again.

"I promise you, Thranduil that I will not rest until I find the source of your son's fear. If that source is indeed me, I will try all the more make this right."

Thranduil spoke, enmity still slightly infusing his voice. "First tell me what happened."

Elrond noted the Elvenking's still, rigid posture and knew that he was a hairs-width away from being thrown to the floor again. Whether Elrond liked it or not, he was now traversing a frozen body of water that was already cracked in many places. He would need to tread lightly or that ice would break and he would plunge into the icy depths.

Taking an inaudibly deep breath, Elrond spoke.

* * *

**Author's note: Elrond may need to move back to Imladris after telling the Elvenking he was responsible for his son falling unconscious. Good thing Elrond has his sword back. :P Did you ever doubt Elrond's innocence regarding the twins?**

**Chapter note: I know some of you, if not most of you were disappointed in Thranduil after the previous chapter. In truth, I was hesitant to write him that way but I soon realized that Thranduil could not have acted any different. Let me explain... He needed to asses the sanity of the twins, which is where all the short simple questions came in. But those questions could not too complex for them to grasp or too plentiful while in the compromised state or they may not understand what was asked of them and develop a sense of ease that nothing had happened to them yet. The punishment, in particular, was to hopefully get the twins out of their mental rut more so than it was recompense for their actions. **

**Some of you also may be wondering what Thranduil did to the twins, so I will briefly tell you. When he raised his blade over Elladan's hand, he shifted it before it fell so it would strike the table near his hand. This made Elladan truly believe that Thranduil had cut off his finger and he felt ghost pain- pain but with no real causation. It was all in his head. This only worked because Elladan perceived Thranduil as being merciless. If Thranduil had done more interrogating the twins would have been less on edge, but Thranduil needed them to fear him.**

**Next update: an indeterminate Friday (Yep, going one last trip)**


	10. Chapter 10: What Did You Say?

**Author's note: A huge thank you one and all for all of your love regarding this story! We reached the milestone of 50 reviews! Wow! Thank you for staying with this story for twelve weeks, and for not giving up on me despite the two-week mini hiatus. I know it's late in the week and after midnight now, but this chapter refused to be written any sooner, so any complaints will have to be taken up with my muse. **

**A big thank you to the amazing people who reviewed the last chapter: AraneltheSilvan, MariaJulietBituin, Nina, and margie-me! You guys made it possible to reach this milestone. Let's shoot for 60!**

**This chapter is the longest one yet, so I hope it makes up for the tardiness. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Ten: What Did You Say?

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Elrond told the king everything, leaving out the part about the attacking trees. When finished, Thranduil looked ready to tackle the elf lord to the floor all over again.

"Why would you try to approach him when it was obvious that he was terrified of you?" Thranduil roared, voice shaking with barely concealed anger.

Elrond was not the slightest bit intimidated by the stormy grey eyes almost dissecting his soul. "I suppose there was still a part of me that believed Legolas had moved past his fear of me. When I saw a glimpse of that fear my instinct was to help."

Thranduil heard the hurt in the Noldor's tone, but it didn't serve to dissipate much of his anger. Rather, it only created more.

"It matters not to me what your intentions were, peredhel," he almost spat, "you should have left him alone. Legolas's fëa has already been damaged once." Thranduil closed his eyes in frustration. He had meant to deliver that piece of information with much more tact. As expected, Elrond's eyes widened in bewilderment as though he saw an orc standing before him wearing a pink dress.

Thranduil gave a placated sigh, some of his anger replaced by the doubt and worry. "I meant to deliver the news more gently."

Elrond took the seat offered to him, brow so creased a deep line seemed to split his forehead in two. It was several minutes before he spoke, in a whisper that betrayed the abject sorrow. "I should have known. The strength you gave.. it was all to heal him not calm him."

"Yes. I do not know how it happened or when. That is information that has eluded me since all this came into being." He cocked his head a little to the side. "But make no mistake, Elrond, you are involved somehow. I do not know how or why, but the proof of my words is lying unconscious in my bed."

Elrond couldn't deny that, grunting in agreement. "I assume that you healed him yourself."

"I healed him last night after you left, Thranduil replied coldly. "But the damage to his mind is apparently not."

"Young elven souls are fragile but they are also embowed with tremendous strength. Legolas possesses one of the strongest souls, which would be a feat for even Sauron himself corrupt. However, besides the forces of evil, there are two other causes for such a travesty. You know one of them well."

"Extreme sorrow," Thranduil answered.

Elrond nodded. "The pain of your father's passing fractured a piece of yourself, but what you may not know is that extreme fear can also be a catalyst." Elrond's complexion visibly paled. "You are Legolas's father and as such you share a certain bond with him I do not. Last night, when he screamed at me…. do you think that is when it happened?"

"No, it was not," Thranduil answered quickly. "His soul was in great turmoil even before that, during the nightmare."

Elrond looked visibly relieved at the news. "Yes, I remember his scream waking me from a deep sleep." Elrond rubbed a hand over his face, the memory of the shrill and pained scream playing back in his mind before he controlled it. "Assuming that there is no malevolent darkness dwelling in the shadowed corners of his room, the nightmare would have to be horrific. Real enough to make Legolas truly fear for his very life and the lives of his loved ones. Do you know anything of the nature of this nightmare? Something that could link its cause to a recent incident."

The Elvenking shook his head. "I only received bits and pieces from incoherent mutterings. It is all worthless."

Elrond's face pinched in contemplation. Then he spoke. "Not necessarily. Words spoken audibly carry with them a certain power, and in dreams that power may be tempered but their message is still just as important, if not more so. Many times I have found that it is beneficial to study them in order to better know ourselves and the past and present occurrences of the world around us. In my case, I mostly dream of the things that have not come to pass, or as you know them, prophecies."

Thranduil inclined his head in agreement. "I admit that your insights have greatly helped us in the war against The Shadow, but those were just that, insights. How can we glean anything of importance from an elfling's nightmare?"

Thranduil's frustration was clear, but Elrond was not going to give up. "Tell me what you first heard him say and continue from there," he instructed.

Thranduil began speaking, having memorized everything from the night before. "Legolas begged for me to help him, and when he awakened, he asked me why I didn't… come to his aid and fight harder to reach him when he.. called for me." Thranduil swallowed the lump in his throat and continued on. "Then you entered the room."

Elrond nodded grimly, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace in front of the hearth. "Did he say anything else that night?"

"Yes, before the healing began Legolas begged me not to let you heal him," Thranduil replied despondently. Then, his expression changed. "Legolas told me that he saw you threaten to kill me."

Elrond took the seat beside him, put there in preparation for their meeting. "That very well may be what did this, but we must not raise false hopes. As to what else was said, you were right. I cannot make good judgment upon only fragments of truth; which is what you have given me. Nor should I, for that matter. It would be an abuse of my power at this point because I would be intruding upon his deepest secrets; thoughts and desires he keeps closest to his heart and hidden from the world."

Thranduil did not make a move to sit but remained standing near his son's bedside. "If you had the information, would it change your mind?" he asked neutrally.

"Not unless I was given permission to do so or it would help us secure a victory in the war against the Shadow. That is the vow I made and I will not break it, even for you."

Thranduil nodded in assent, expecting no less.

"However," Elrond continued, standing up and walking over to the bed. "it does bring to mind something I must ask you now before another word is spoken." He lightly brushed his hand over the elfling, hovering it an inch above his body so as not to touch him.

"Speak your mind," Thranduil said, coming to stand on the other side.

"How severe was the damage to his soul?"

Thranduil was surprised at himself for not speaking of it sooner, and answered: "I found a shallow fracture."

The elf lord grasped onto the bedpost as if he would fall. "Oh Valar! What have I done…" he said quietly, knowing the pain that Legolas had gone through.

Thranduil numbly held his son's hand, paying little heed to anything else other than the steady pulse under his finger. Well, at least Legolas could not be plagued by nightmares, he thought. In order to dream elves needed to have their eyes open, otherwise, they saw only darkness; as pitch as their surroundings. Not for the first time, Thranduil regretted having such a small window installed. Lamps dispelled the darkness by night, but in the day the sunlight could not seem to reach the right angle to illuminate much of the room.

Thranduil's glow brightened slightly and he held his hand over his son's closed eyes. "Remember the light, Legolas, and return to it when you are ready." With a sigh, Thranduil dimmed his glow and returned his arm to his side. He wanted to wake his son and hold him again, almost yearned for it. But Legolas likely needed the rest to be unconscious for so long. He would let his son sleep for the time being; free from pain and fear. "There is something more I must tell you."

Slowly, with laborious effort, Elrond put aside his grief and approached him. "What is it, Thranduil?"

The Elvenking's eyes shined as he spoke. "Legolas voiced his pain during the healing. He actually cried out."

The elf lord straightened and held the gaze of the Elvenking, his face a canvas of concern barely hiding his own turmoil. "Pain is regretfully unavoidable in soul healing, nothing can be done to make it disappear completely. But there are ways of overcoming it such as giving strength and comfort in order to distract the mind from what is done to the body, as you have done."

"I gave it too late. I did not realize his pain until he screamed," Thranduil said morosely.

"Do not blame yourself for this, Thranduil. Legolas is very skilled at hiding his pain, even from me. His tolerance is very high, which will be beneficial to him as a warrior. He paused. "But it greatly worries me that the healing was painful enough to elicit an audible response from Legolas. I myself know of only one patient that underwent such similar tribulation."

"Who?" Thranduil asked.

"A human female child by the name of Sarah."

I do not recognize the name. Has she ever been to Mirkwood? Thranduil asked.

"No. She lives in a village a few miles from my home. Sarah did not have a good childhood. Some children don't, but hers was especially horrible. When she was seven she was forced to watch her entire family being torn apart by Wargs. The child's nightmares were so severe and frequent that her relatives oft had to spend nights secluded in a nearby inn until morning. It was only when the girl complained of pain in the chest that they enlisted the aid of an elven healer. Not I but someone who is known to me. So great was the damage to the child's soul that she screamed during the examination; which you know is not supposed to hurt, and eventually much strength had to be lent in order for the healing to be completed without killing her."

Thranduil felt physically ill at the description. "What a horrible thing to experience. I cannot imagine what it would be like to undergo such suffering."

"Nor I," Elrond admitted. After a short pause, he spoke again. "I hope I am not right but is it possible that the damage to Legolas' soul was greater than what you perceived then? The fact remains that you are out of practice with this type of healing, and that is usually when most mistakes occur."

Thranduil shook his head. "I made absolutely sure I was thorough. I found only a small shallow fracture, nothing more."

Elrond spoke, though his voice was far less authoritative and the words themselves were hindered. "You must check for more damage."

Thranduil frowned, not expecting those words. An elflng's fëa, though stronger after a healing, was still vulnerable and could be damaged more easily because of it. "Surely you don't think…"

"The fear I caused him was great," Elrond replied distantly, dolefully staring down at Legolas's sleeping form.

Thranduil also watched his sleeping son, making careful note of the smooth brow and peaceful expression on his face. If he were to examine him internally again, Thranduil knew it would be far more uncomfortable for Legolas than it did last time due to his soul being delicate from the recent healing. Examinations were not done past that point for this reason. These were the emotions that showed through his gaze when he faced Elrond.

"I cannot bring myself to cause him more pain, even necessary pain."

"You must," Elrond pressed.

"No, you do not understand. You did not see what happened to him last night, Elrond. The healing was very hard for him to bear, and it is only his high pain threshold that preserved his strength enough for mine to have any affect. With a healing fëa, the examination will not just be uncomfortable. It will hurt and I have no way of easing it..."

Thranduil breathed in deeply. "Legolas will not go through that hell again, I'll find some other way." Thranduil felt a hand on his shoulder but did not turn his attention away from Legolas. The Noldor would not talk him out of his decision.

"Let me lend him my strength this time," Elrond suggested.

Thranduil had to admit the distal answer was unexpected, but he would not be moved. "It will not be enough. You are drained as much as I am if not more so. Expending any more of your strength could prove detrimental to your health and I will not be responsible for sending a partially dead healer back to your people."

"Yes, I am a healer, Thranduil. I lend portions of my strength on a daily basis to my patients in order to give their bodies the extra energy they need to heal. But I am used to exerting myself and I recover much quicker than most because of this."

Thranduil admitted that Elrond looked much stronger than he had that morning, but he was still not comfortable with it and the doubt showed.

"Please let me do this for your son. Though I do not know what I have done to torment him so, Legolas is injured because of me. If I am able to help your son it may make up for the gargantuan mistake I've made with my own."

Thranduil sighed and shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. "You know parental guilt is my weakness."

"Is it working?" Elrond inquired hopefully.

Everything in the king was telling him to let his son be after all the child endured the night before. Though, at the same time, he worried if what Elrond said was true. Could the incident in the garden have ruined all his work? Thranduil did not know the answer, but he knew he needed to be sure that his son's spirit was completely whole. That alone was enough for him to give his permission.

"Alright, but we do this quickly," Thranduil said, still not completely confident but having no other choice.

Elrond nodded.

Before Thranduil could change his mind, he placed his hand to his son's chest for the second time in two days, closing his eyes in deep concentration as he spoke the binding words.

The reaction was immediate: Legolas's breath hitched and he moaned in discomfort.

"Now, Elrond!" Thranduil ordered, and Elrond immediately laid his hand beside the Elvenking's, whispering a few binding words in Quenya. He was unable to hide a small gasp as the energy left his body, nor hide the brief waver of his legs, but he stood tall a moment later. Thranduil gave him an apathetic look but did not linger for long, turning complete focus to the task at hand. Though in sleep, Legolas tried to move away from their touch, but the firm hand of the healer kept him still while the Elvenking did his part. Each one hoped that their tasks would be completed quickly for both could feel the tensing of the child's muscles.

Both elves winced when Legolas whimpered, the sound cutting them deep. Thranduil did not need to implore the healer to comfort his son for Elrond was already stroking Legolas's cheek. Much to the peredhel's surprise and Thranduil's relief, Legolas soon leaned into his touch and quieted.

"Please forgive me, penneth," Elrond whispered as he held the elfling still.

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

After what seemed like hours but was only a few minutes, Thranduil withdrew his hand. "Valar be praised, he is completely whole," he breathed, slumping down into his chair.

Elrond said nothing, remaining unmoving in the chair.

The Elvenking had been watching Elrond mentally war with himself since he came into the room. In truth, he had derived some satisfaction from it, but no more. It was clear that the peredhel's heart was heavy, almost painfully so, with grief and self-loathing; two things Thranduil was all too familiar with. Though he had doubted it at first, it was now clear to him that the Elrond that harmed his son was no longer before him, but a grief-stricken healer who broke the sacred bond of trust. Though a part of him ached to see Elrond in such a state, he did not interfere, knowing that any form of comfort would not be welcomed or do any good.

However, his disposition changed when Elrond's shoulders slumped, his head falling into his hands.

Forgetting his own fatigue, Thranduil stood up and moved closer to Elrond who still remained standing by the bed. He had been intent on comfort, but his heart clenched when he noticed the faint bruises that adorned his head. Taking the liberty of rolling up the sleeves of his robe, he found bluish-purple bruises littering both arms. Elrond tried to pull away, but Thranduil did not allow it, acting the part of a healer assessing the injuries of his patient.

"Ow!"

"Hold still."

"Don't press so hard and I will," Elrond bit back.

"The pressure is needed to reduce the bleeding."

"You are just creating more bruises!"

"It's hard not to when they practically cover every inch of your arms!"

"I don't have that many."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

Thranduil released his hold but did not roll down the sleeves. "Did anyone ever tell you that you make a horrendous patient?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jar, facing his patient.

"Once or twice." Elrond spoke again, "Why do you carry a jar of salve in your pocket?" the healer asked curiously.

"When Legolas was a child he would often acquire cuts and bruises. Though he is no longer a child, I still carry it with me just in case." Thranduil smiled nostalgically at the memory. He missed caring for his son in that way and felt a little hurt that Legolas had not come to him after the sparring accident, probably taking great pains to hide the injury. But Thranduil still noticed the bulge of bandages under his tunic, and the bowl of cold water in his room was not exactly a normal occurrence.

Elrond smiled softly at him. "You are a good father, Thranduil. Legolas is very fortunate to have you."

"I try to be," Thranduil replied. He unscrewed the lid and dipped a few fingers into the jar, coating them with the sticky green substance.

"I can manage it on my own, you know."

"I know, but some of these bruises might not be the entire fault of the trees. Please allow me to make amends for the harsh way I treated you."

Elrond nodded in understanding, nothing more needing to be said. To the healer's surprise, Thranduil was very gentle as he applied the salve, barely brushing the skin as he covered every bruise in a coat of the salve that was nicely even, in Elrond's expert opinion.

Thranduil spoke. "You seem surprised."

"I admit I was expecting a much rougher treatment." Elrond spoke again, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. "Since when did you become so learned in the practices of healing?"

"How did you come by so many bruises?" Thranduil countered.

"I asked you first."

"Yes, but you're forgetting that I am the King," Thranduil declared haughtily.

The elf lord mock-sighed, a smile tugging at his lips. Some things had not changed.

"Fine. You win. The trees of your realm pelted me with the solid fruit of their branches as I escaped with your son."

"Whatever did you do to upset them so grievously?" Thranduil asked, though his calm demeanor did not fool the dark-haired elf in the least.

"I did not know at first, but then I understood that they thought I harmed Legolas," Elrond replied, feeling a stab of guilt.

"What did you do to make them think this?"

Of course, a wood elf on the side of the trees, why was he not surprised. Thranduil's tone was dangerously calm, trying to seek out any hidden truths, so he would need to tread carefully.

The healer stood his ground, defiant in the face of the obvious tactics of intimidation. "The first time Legolas avoided me, I told you I gave chase, but it was when Legolas… passed out that the attack began."

To his surprise, the Elvenking let out a small chuckle.

Elrond's face slightly reddened with annoyance. "One of your guests getting bullied by your trees is funny to you?"

Thranduil had to choke back another laugh, imagining the peredhel running away from an onslaught of nuts and pinecones. It must have been a sight! He barely got out the words.

"Well, I dare say you will need my son's help before you are able to step foot outside again. By tomorrow, every tree in Mirkwood will be your enemy."

Elrond rolled his eyes and this was the final thing to set Thranduil tumbling over the edge with laughter.

He calmed soon after, the glint of mirth having disappeared. "Thank you, I have needed that," Thranduil said, wiping his eyes of the mirthful tears.

Elrond mock-glared at him. He couldn't be too upset with him though, for it was plain to see that no one needed to laugh more than the king of the woodland realm. The same must hold true for his people.

"After you left I studied all I could in case you never returned."

Elrond had almost not heard him, too deep in thought. "What amazes me is that you found time to do so. Medicine is one field that will always be never ending in knowledge, so no matter how much you think you know there will always be more opportunities to expand upon it."

"Where there is a will there is a way." Thranduil paused, a sigh escaping his lips. "I do not yet possess the will to forgive you for what you did to me and to Legolas, though, I do not blame you for your actions today."

Elrond looked up at this, hopeful but also quite skeptical. "The former I expected, but I put your son's life at risk with my actions. You have every right to blame me."

"I did at first, but now I realize that I cannot blame you for doing something that I would have done," Thranduil replied, pulling up his chair closer to the bed so he could hold his son's hand again. "I know that If Legolas feared me I would stop at nothing to get to the bottom of it. Speaking of which, there is one thing I have been pondering. Your actions last night were most unusual."

"If you are referring to my anonymous entrance last night, I do not think you would have permitted my entrance if you knew who I was," Elrond replied.

"No, you are right, I would not. Still, your method was most unorthodox," Thranduil replied.

"Perhaps," Elrond agreed. "Though that is not the only reason I did it. In truth, I wanted to gauge Legolas's reaction toward me without the bias of knowing who it was."

"What did you hope to accomplish by this?" Thranduil asked, curious as to what the answer would be.

"I had hoped to confirm or disprove that I unknowingly facilitated such fear, but it was confirmed as soon as Legolas saw my face."

Thranduil nodded, knowing it to be true. He gently applied another coating of salve onto a particularly wicked looking bruise and wondered if it was caused by his crushing grip earlier.

"While I am working on your other arm, I have a delicate matter to discuss with you," Thranduil said, attempting to move his dreary thoughts elsewhere.

"I expected as much after you told me you had need of my counsel." Elrond said, waiting patiently for Thranduil to begin what was sure to be a very long conversation. He gave equal patience to the healing treatment as well, though it was more than a little uncomfortable, even with the Elvenking's gentle touch. The hard projectiles striking his skin at such speed had made it very tender, sensitive to even the slightest touch. That is why he sighed in relief when Thranduil finished, although, it was clear that the Elvenking was slightly hurt by it.

"Was it that bad?"

"No," Elrond responded quickly. "you did well. The flesh is just tender, that is all."

Thranduil nodded, accepting the answer. "What I mean to speak with you about concerns your sons."

Elrond ran his free hand over his face in exasperation, a very uncharacteristic sound escaping his lips. "What have they done now?"

Thranduil cut straight to the point, wanting to save the peredhel from his destructive thoughts. "Either one or both of your son's told Legolas of the gruesome practices that orcs have used against our kin." The king reclaimed the healer's arm, spreading the rest of the salve on before switching to the next arm. Elrond's face was ashen, and it was clear that he was in a state of shock, but Thranduil saw beyond it, to the deep pain and grief that rested beneath the surface.

Thranduil spoke gently, resting a comforting hand on the peredhel's shoulder. "Forgive me. I know of the manner in which your beloved was taken from you and I do not wish you to suffer the remembrance. Therefore, you must believe that I would not have asked this of you if I had a choice."

Elrond nodded, his face solemn as he spoke. "Do you know how far they went?"

"Legolas said they mentioned the torture of the body and spirit. How much detail they gave, I do not know, but he was adamant in his belief that his hair and teeth would fall out and he would turn into one of those monsters. Legolas truly believed that he would turn into an orc, and it took some work on my part to convince him otherwise. If I had not been able to he may not have let me heal him." Thranduil visibly shuddered as he spoke the last words.

"In the span of a few days my sons have managed to put your son's life at risk and quite possibly terrify the boy for years to come." Elrond clasped his hands on his lap, staring morosely at them. "So it is true, the passing of their mother has truly changed them." The healer cut his eyes to Thranduil. "This is in no way my attempt at justifying their actions, mind you, but my son's used to be joyful and lively, a love of pranks and practical jokes nearly driving out every guest we have ever had. But now they are melancholic and speak to no one, except your son, it would seem."

Elrond stared at the hearth for a moment and frowned, meeting the Elvenking's waiting gaze. "I will confront them about this and get their sides of the story before an action is taken. If it matches what your son has told you, which I have no doubt it will, then I personally place my sons in your hands for a just punishment."

Thranduil searched for a mischievous twinkle or some other tell that Elrond was joking, but there were none.

"You are really serious, aren't you?"

The elf lord inclined his head. "My sons need to learn that their actions have consequences. Since Legolas was the one that was wronged, it is only right that his father be the one to pass judgment once more. But If I am being honest, I, myself, see no punishment that is fitting enough for this terrible grievance. Again."

"I will take your wishes into consideration. Again," Thranduil said with a hint of a smile, before sparing a glance at Legolas sleeping soundly in his bed. They were silent for a time before Elrond broke the silence.

"I assume my sons are locked away in your dungeon."

So he was going there. "They were, but now they are likely in their chambers."

Elrond seemed perplexed at this but then apparently answered his own question. "How did they take their punishment?"

"Better than I had expected." Thranduil suddenly faced the healer, placing both of his hands on his shoulders. There is something I must tell you. I have only waited this long because of the distraction at finding Legolas unconscious but it cannot wait another minute. I warn you that what I am about to tell you is deeply troubling and will not be easy to hear."

Elrond's gaze darkened. "Go on."

"When I paid a visit to them in my dungeons, your sons showed almost a complete lack of empathy for what they did. It seemed they care more for each other and Legolas was simply an afterthought. Elrohir displayed the worst of this, and nothing, save my sword, could change it."

Elrond arched a brow. "Should I have reason to be concerned?"

"Hardly. Your sons do not even bear a scratch. The sword was mostly a means to evoke a reaction and prove a theory."

"What theory, Thranduil? What are you not telling me?" Elrond asked impatiently. Sometimes a fast truth was better than a drawn out explanation.

"I was not sure before, but now I have no doubt that your sons… are tainted."

* * *

**Author's note: This would normally be the part where I say we are halfway done or there are only a few chapters left, but I find that in some cases it can ruin plot points, so I will leave you all with a question. How do you think Elrond will react?**

**As always, feel free to review, fav, and follow! The next update is Saturday, and the twins will be back!**


	11. Chapter 11: The Plan

**Author's Note: I am enjoying reading all of your theories so far. Some of you were right on the money when it came to Elrond's twins being tainted, some were not sure, and others were likely biding their time to see what else would happen. But so far, none of you have figured out the answer to the big question, which means I didn't do too shabby of a job crafting that little aspect. So kudos to me! Lol. I'm updating early today. Well, earlier... Anyhoosie, enjoy this next installment. **

**Thank you to all the fantabulous people who reviewed the last chapter: MariaJulietBituin, ****AraneltheSilvan, ****Nina, margie-me, and last but not least... TeenMuggle.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: The Plan

~LOTRLOTRlOTR~

Elladan shook his head 'no' for what he suspected was the 100th time since his brother started talking. Both had been confined to their room, and the only time the door opened was to give them food or drink. Elrohir had foolishly tried to sneak past the guard but was caught and given a stern reprimand to not do so again or they would both be taken back to the dungeons. Now both twins sat on the edge of one bed, taking in sustenance as they devised a plan of escape. The only problem was, in Elladan's expert opinion, was that his brother was coo coo crazy.

"There is too much meat in this salad. What is so wrong with leafy greens without the aid of dried boar haunches? Elladan asked, in an effort to shift the subject.

"Ah, I got it," Elrohir declared. "We stop eating until they grow concerned and take us to the king, but before that happens we overpower the guards and then make a break for it."

Elladan stifled his twentieth eye-roll. "And what is to prevent more guards from hearing the commotion and coming after us?" he asked dryly, taking a bite of lettuce and beef.

"I don't hear you coming up with any good ideas," Elrohir snapped, viciously stabbing his fork into his own salad.

"It is a little difficult to contribute anything when you've been talking for an hour straight!" Elladan bit back.

"Well, at least I'm not drolling on and on about salad! I'm actually trying to help us!"

"Help? Please, with your ideas we'll be kneeling in the throne room bound and gagged."

Elrohir threw his hands up, apparently not interested in quarreling with his brother. "Fine. Then what do you suggest we do?"

"That we stay."

Elrohir stared at his brother as if a limb suddenly grew out of his neck. He slammed his bowl down beside him on the mildly firm cot, producing a muffled clang, and then whirled toward him, eyes blazing. "Are you insane? You saw what happened to us in the dungeon... what happened to you. And you want us to stay!? Why don't we just kill each other now, save father and the king the trouble!"

Elladan spoke calmly in an attempt to cool his brother's anger. "Ro, if they were going to kill us don't you think they would have done so already?"

"Well, no… they probably need time to decide the method of our demise. That's why it's taken so long," Elrohir replied confidently.

Elladan rolled his eyes. "They are likely caring for Legolas right now. We did a terrible thing to him and we deserve confinement. In fact, we should count ourselves fortunate that we are not locked in the king's dungeons right now without this food or drink."

"Terrible?" Elrohir scoffed. "All we did was frighten the boy. It's not my fault the prince doesn't have thicker skin." Besides, I will do far worse to him if Ada finds out our little secret and this time no one will come to his rescue."

"Do you think he knows, Ro?"

Elrohir heard his brother speak, but it was the young voice his almost-adult brother used that reminded him of when he was a small child. "I don't know, El. But you have my word that I will keep you safe from him. And I won't let the Elvenking hurt you again."

It was agonizing to go through, even though I have no wound. Much worse than the time that orc stabbed me," Elladan admitted.

"I remember that well. You didn't stop crying until father gave you a drought to help with the pain."

The young twin smiled wistfully. "Father was so furious that day. Do you remember?"

"I remember."

"After he tended the wound, he left the room without explanation, returning later clad in his shinning amber armor. His bright eyes were darkened with raw purpose as he told me of what he would do, and then he departed without another word."

"He didn't come home that night," Elrohir supplied distantly.

"By the time he returned I had fallen fast asleep, and when I awoke in the morning it was to find our father staring down at me, a proud smile on his lips as he told me that the orc would never harm me again. I felt so safe in his presence and believed every word."

"I did as well," Elrohir admitted in a small voice, regret coloring every word.

Elladan turned tear-filled eyes toward his brother. "Ro, I miss father. I miss the way he used to be."

Said twin brought his brother into his arms, gently rubbing his back. "I know. I do too." He pulled away. "But we must face the fact that he has changed." His brother nodded. "We must escape Mirkwood before he comes back to do something to us. Are you with me?"

"I'm with you," Elladan replied, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"Good. Then after we finish this meal, we shall leave," Elrohir replied.

The younger twin paused in thought and then smiled. "I have some idea of how that can be accomplished."

Elrohir grinned at his brother. "Go on..."

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

Thranduil was fairly certain this was the longest time the elf lord had ever gone without speaking. The silence had grown to such an unbearable level that the Elvenking was tempted to break it himself, be it either a throat-clear or the tapping of his foot on the marble floor. But while it would serve to break the long silence, given their proximity to one another it would most definitely startle the elf lord, so he refrained. For the time being, anyway. If the silence and tension persisted, he would not be held accountable for what would happen.

_"I'm patient, I can wait." _Thranduil recalled the words spoken to Thorin Oakenshield. Thranduil was patient, possessing much mastery of such a virtue more so than many of his kin. But his seemingly unending patience reached its end when there were no fruits to reap; when _nothing_ happened. Ai!, he was so bored!

Thankfully, one of the Valar took pity on him, for life suddenly returned to Elrond's eyes and he stepped away from the Elvenking.

"Tainted?" He shook his head. "You must be mistaken. I kept that fell object far from my sons, they never had contact with it."

"Perhaps," Thranduil replied levelly, trying to keep the relief from his voice. "But they have likely had contact from you."

The blood rushed from the healers face. "No, impossible. I never laid a hand on them when I was under its influence. It couldn't have happened."

Thranduil's voice was gentle and caring, nary a shadow of the anger that used to be there. "Surely you could not have been aware of every action. You may have done it without even realizing it."

Elrond ran a hand over his face and stood up, padding over to the hearth where he absently watched the flames dance their deadly dance, the unseen spectators of such event crackling in anticipation. It was some time before the elf lord spoke, and when he did it was with a voice Thranduil had never heard before, devoid of all feeling and dull to the ears.

"If I have done what you say, then I am responsible for every terrible occurrence that that happened thus far. Horror colored his features, desperation entering his once equable voice. "Send in your soldiers and have them take me to your deepest dungeon."

Thranduil strode over to him in sure strides, his elven shoes lightly striking the marble. The glow of the fire cast a red glow around his visage, the platinum strands of his hair starkly contrasting against it and darkening his eyes. He was no Elvenking in Elrond's eyes, but an avenging spirit come to take his soul and drag him back with him into the flames.

Despite himself, Elrond flinched away from Thranduil. "No, do not touch me! I am poisonous. Send in your guards and I will allow myself to be led away willingly without the need of restraints."

"Relax, Elrond," Thranduil crooned gently. "If I believed you posed any threat you would already be in my dungeons." He released his hand from the peredhel's chest, glimpsing the apprehension in his gaze.

"How can you be so sure I am not lying in wait for the opportunity to kill you? You seemed to think I was capable of doing so already. You may be putting your life at risk right now, and by touching me, you have surely doomed yourself."

Thranduil shook his head. "Then I have surely doomed myself long ago, for this is not the first time we have had contact. Do you not remember my hands around your throat?" Thranduil lifted up his bandaged hand to eye level. "And unless you have an untapped ability to wrap wounds without the aid of your hands, this most surely counts as well. But why stop there? After all, your sons have had contact with my son. We are all doomed, are we not?"

Elrond stared hard at the king, gauging every movement and facial change with fine proficiency. "I don't understand… If I spread to you what darkness is within me, why are you not expressing any symptoms like my sons? And why is Legolas?"

Thranduil sighed heavily. "Has it been so long that you have forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?" Elrond questioned.

"We dwell in Mirkwood. A realm where the darkest evil festers and spreads through our lands, infecting everything it touches. Not even my kin are exempt from it, and even the strength of my own fëa is not enough to resist it. Don't you see? All of us are already tainted."

Elrond's eyes blew wide in shock, and his voice came out in a breathy whisper. "It cannot be. You all behave so..."

"That is because we are normal," Thranduil finished. "Being tainted does not make us evil. We still have control over our bodies and minds. Even the shadowed trees still have some of their will left to not be a slave to the Darkness and would help us if we were in need of it. But all would not be so if we did not do one thing, something your kin have no need of in your realm of Light. We do not glow."

Elrond stared intensely at the king's features and then at his hands. He hesitated a good moment before lifting one of them to compare it beside his own. His own skin gave off a faint light, but Thranduil's did not radiate even the smallest glimmer, appearing just as a human's instead of an elf blessed by the Valar.

Elrond's mouth was dry, but he spoke despite it. "I remember you telling me of this, but I still do not know how it is done. Even I, with all my ages, have not been able to dim my glow completely, as you see."

"That is because you have no need to do so. We keep all of our inner light within us to guard our minds and hearts so that we are never made slaves of the Darkness that lies all around us at all times, but your realm free of such a burden and your people have no need of hiding their Light, so you do not possess the ability to do so completely.

Before you traveled to this realm I advised you and your kin to lower your inner light as much as possible while passing through my woods. You did not need to do so completely because your passage would be brief, as would be your stay here. But my regiments fighting the fell creatures in the forest are often there for many days, and as such, the darkness would seek out their lights and try to destroy them if they were to show them in the open."

"That makes sense," Elrond conceded. "Though, it still does not answer why I have seen you break that rule for your son."

"In this palace, we are far enough away from the forest to be able to do so without fear here, but only for a brief time," Thranduil replied.

Elrond sighed, his hands massaging his temples as if they ached. "It would seem the long years have robbed me of this knowledge."

Thranduil moved away the peredhel's hands with care and put his hands on his head, one on each side so that his fingers clasped over the crown of his head. Then he began to speak. "Even the stones in a river are not immune to the touch of time, chipped away by the rushing water until they are nothing but the sand they rest upon. If time did not exist, what would happen?"

Elrond took in a short breath. The Elvenking's fëa thrumming against his skull was a little surprising, but he did not make any move to stop him. "The stone would remain intact, untouched by the water," he replied. "Since time would not exist, nothing would be changing. Even the blood flowing through our veins would cease to move and render the heart unfunctional with nothing to pump, thus causing a mass extinction of all life.

"Quite grim, isn't it."

"Yes, indeed it is," the healer agreed. "Fortunately for us, time is a constant. Though it chips away at our memories, at least it does so or life as we know it would cease. A few lost memories is better than the destruction of all life." He gave Thranduil a wry smirk. "That is what you wanted me to say, is it not?"

Thranduil nodded, mirroring the peredhel's expression. "Indeed, though I admit the question was mostly to engage your mind while I healed it." He removed his hands from the peredhel's temples and the thrumming stopped. "You will no longer suffer any headaches from the knowledge you have gained nor from anything you learn of hence."

"I am thoroughly impressed, Thranduil. I guess you don't need me anymore, for Mirkwood is in capable hands with her Elvenking healer."

Thranduil saw the glimmer of mischief in Elrond's eye and knew he was only speaking in jest. "I am curious why you have not already rid yourself of such a burden. Surely a healer of your caliber knows of such an elementary technique."

"Yes, I know well of it and have for some time. But though I am grateful to you, I would prefer not to say the reason why I have not applied such knowledge."

"Thranduil inclined his head respectfully. "As you wish."

The elf lord's disposition faded to one of stoic shrewdness once more. "Getting back to the topic at hand, though I am greatly relieved in knowing you are all immune, the fact remains that I am not. I am a loose cannon, a pawn of the enemy, and it would be wise of you to put me somewhere where I can do no one harm. Please, Thranduil," he added.

Thranduil did not answer right away, giving Elrond more time to speak. Then, when it became apparent no further words would come forth, he spoke.

"There is one more thing we Mirkwood elves have mastered. We can sense the darkness in others."

Elrond perked up at this, the subject apparently drawing his interest. "Another inherent ability?"

"Indeed. I sensed it in your sons and I've sensed a lingering shroud of it over my son from their touch. But I tell you now that whatever inhabited you is now gone. You are clean, Elrond."

Elrond nodded, though he did not give any indication that he believed the king, and instead, came to stand on the other side of the bed, apparently intent on silently observing.

Thranduil paid him no need, speaking to his son in a quiet voice.

"Legolas, I cannot promise that this will be easy... nor painless, but I will do all I can to make your final healing possible. Take this time to rest and recover your strength, for you will have need of it soon." He pushed an errant strand of hair back to its proper place and frowned when he saw a drop of blood on his son's cheek. Before he could do anything his hand was grabbed, and he turned to find the healer examining it with a scrutinizing gaze.

Elrond peeled back the bandage, not missing the light gasp from his patient. "This cut is deep, and for that, you have my apology. The knife I used has never been tested before."

"And you thought I would make a good test subject?" Thranduil replied testily. "I've seen your hands in action, even a new blade does not cause them to falter."

"Yes, but when that blade can slice through bone, even the lightest pressure can cause significant damage. I barely grazed your flesh and look what happened."

Thranduil peered down at his hand and blanched. "That explains why it has been paining me," he responded.

"You have been in pain? Thranduil, why didn't you tell me?" Elrond lamented.

"Because I thought it trivial or the product of my imagination. But once the pain persisted I realized it was real."

Elrond hummed in response, swathing the king's hand in another layer of makeshift bandages. "This should prevent it from bleeding through, but as soon as this ordeal is over with I must insist upon a thorough cleansing to prevent infection."

Thranduil hummed noncommittally, wiping his son's cheek with the pad of his thumb, which came away red.

Elrond spoke. "I will leave you before he wakes."

Thranduil stopped him with a hand. "Elrond, remain here," he said firmly. "This must be dealt with."

Elrond's legs weakened further but he did not sway. He could not believe how foolish and ignorant he behaved and knowing the repercussions of his lack of foresight was almost enough to make him despair in ever setting things right again. Almost. Living through ages of hopelessness and hope had given him almost an instinctual ability to recognize the smallest bit of light in a bleak situation. There was still hope, though very little. But Elrond was determined to find the spark and nurse it back to a flame, no matter the cost to himself. Legolas would surely never forgive him, and Elrond would not blame him for it, but at least Legolas would live to do so.

Elrond nodded knowingly and sat down. "I will do what is necessary, whatever that may be."

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

Elrohir stood apprehensively before his brother, his arms crossed. "Are you sure you've done this before?"

"Yes, now you must hurry," Elladan urged, nudging his brother toward the open window.

"Why am I going first again?"

"Because I had to endure the punishment. Now get moving before the guard comes back to serve us another meal or something worse."

Elrohir hesitated briefly before lowering one of his feet down onto the outstretched branch beneath him, only to pull his leg back when it suddenly recoiled, creaking and groaning with the effort. "What does it say?" he asked his brother. Elladan was the only one who could understand the language of the trees thanks to lessons from the Mirkwood prince. Elrohir had teased his brother about it, stating that it was a useless skill to have in Rivendell where the trees spoke differently, but now he was more than glad that one of them took the time to learn such a skill.

Elladan closed his eyes, listening to the formless noise until it took shape in his mind. "It says we are prisoners of the realm and it cannot interfere."

"Tell it that we were wrongly imprisoned for only defending ourselves against Lord Elrond, our father." The branches and leaves of the tree shook in response, putting the elder twin on edge. Though he knew it would do no good, he gripped the knife hidden away in his shirt pocket. It had been lying on the table after the king left them in the dungeon, and Elrohir had snatched it thinking how short-sighted it was on the Elvenking to leave it there within reach. "Elladan, what is it saying?"

Said twin closed his eyes in concentration, and after a few minutes, he opened them, terror widening them. "Ro, look out!"

Elrohir could only look on, glued to the spot he was standing as two branches shot through the window, their sharp points darting through the air in an apparent effort to skewer the two Noldor. Then, at the last possible second, he was yanked back, falling backward onto his rescuer as the momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground.

A groan.

"Are you harmed?"

The elder twin checked himself over and then pushed himself to his knees. "No, I don't think so. Are you?" The younger twin shook his head and stared past him, leery of the open window as he carefully got to his feet. "I take it the tree does not want us to escape," Elrohir pointed out, but Elladan only shuddered in response. The dark words the tree spoke would not long be forgotten.

"Hey..." Elrohir tapped his brother's shoulder. "What did it say that is so horrible you cannot speak of it?"

"I will never tell you, for the burden will always be my own. But I will tell you what else it said. The tree will not let us leave because of our father's crime."

Elrohir gaped. "Father committed a crime?"

"Yes, a very serious one. He harmed the prince," Elladan responded.

"Is no one safe from the monster?!"

Elladan gave him an unexpected smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Do not despair. This is good news!"

Elrohir gave him a pointed look. "Are you sure you did not strike your head when you fell, brother?"

"Listen to me," Elladan demanded. "Father will be punished for his crime and likely be locked away in the Elvenking's dungeons. Don't you see? He cannot harm us anymore if he is locked in a cell, so we have no need to escape. They are likely still dueling as we speak."

"No, that won't work. Even if one kills the other the alive one will come seeking us. Our only recourse is to escape."

Elladan's shoulders slumped, the logic in his brother's words becoming known. "We cannot. Our only chance was to climb down the tree and now that said tree wants to skewer us alive, that will be impossible."

"What if you talk to it, tell our side of the story. We too have been harmed by our father, and it may give the tree reason to help us."

"I admit it's worth a try, but if we're wrong we will be dead," Elladan cautioned.

"I have faith in us. Now go bargain as thought your life depends on it." He gave his brother a mild smack against the back.

Elladan took a deep breath and then took a few cautious steps forward, making sure to stay a good distance away in case they needed to drop and roll.

"Before you kill us, please hear me out." He waited for a sign of protest and then continued when nothing happened. "Both me and my brother have been harmed by Lord Elrond. He is evil and a danger to our friend Legolas the prince." The tree rustled in response, but Elladan continued unabated. "We were wrongly imprisoned for defending ourselves against Lord Elrond, and my brother and I fear that he will harm us again if we do not escape these lands." More rustling. "But we cannot do so without your aid." Then there was silence.

"I guess it didn't work..."

The tree shuddered and gave a woody groan.

The twins tensed the muscles in their legs, prepared to dodge any branches at a seconds notice. Then, all was still and silent. Elrohir turned to his brother and was surprised to see his eyes closed. He was further surprised by the smile.

"The tree will help us," Elladan told him joyfully.

Elrohir took in a starved breath and allowed his brother to lead him toward the window. Just as before, a branch was positioned beneath them a few inches past the windowpane, but this time it did not recoil when Elrohir placed his foot onto it, and instead, moved another of its branches under the one he stood on.

"My balance is not very good, little brother."

"Be not afraid. The tree will catch you if you should fall," Elladan replied.

Elrohir took some comfort in his brother's words as he climbed down to the next branch and then the next, the tree thankfully creating a staircase with its limbs for the half-elf to use. As he neared the last few feet, a tremor jolted through his legs, making the branch beneath them quake.

But there was no time to even express his fear before he felt another branch grab hold of his torso, steadying him. Elrohir stared upward at his brother, wordlessly speaking with his gaze to which his brother responded in turn. Elrohir was now certain that the tree would keep him safe, and emboldened by the strong branch still gripping him, he descended the rest of the way down.

Once on the ground, he thanked the tree for its service, watching the limb around him uncurl and move back to its original position. Then he shouted up at his brother. "Climb down while I get our horses." His brother gave a nod and Elrohir spun on his heel, heading for the stables which were thankfully not too far away.

Elrohir walked slowly, keeping his footsteps as silent as possible so as to not spook the horses. When he came upon his own horse, she whickered happily at him, her trusting brown eyes meeting his own. Elrohir gave her a gentle pat on the neck and then unlatched the gate, scooping the tack into his arms and that of his brother's horse before freeing his animal as well. He made quick work of getting both horses ready, nimble hands sliding over and slipping through soft leather and warming bits. Not quickly enough, but in a reasonable amount of time, both horses were ready.

A deep whicker sounded behind him, making the twin turn cautiously.

A deep chestnut stallion with a white blaze running from its nose to its forehead stared directly at him, the small slits of sunlight shining on its polished rich coat as it stood motionless.

Elrohir smiled to himself, the perfect plan already stewing in his mind. He approached the gate and unlocked it, holding out a hand to beckon the horse forward. But instead of moving forward, the stallion took a few steps backward, ears pulled back in defense, eyes never leaving the twin's.

"Why are you acting so strange?" Elrohir questioned, taking another step forward. "I'm not going to harm you." He spoke a few words in elvish. Still, the horse did not move.

Elrohir became frustrated and considered forgetting his perfect plan when an idea came. "Maybe this will help..." He closed his eyes and his inner glow grew much brighter, caressing his skin in soft ambient light.

The horse came forward almost immediately, whuffling against the palm of his hand with its velvety nose.

"There, you see? I mean you no harm," Elrohir spoke warmly to the animal, leading him out of the gate. Before he could talk himself out of it, he tacked this horse as well and led all three of them out of the stables, making his way back to his brother who watched him from the ground, his body leaning against the trunk of the tree in expectancy.

"Thank goodness you came. I was growing worried that you were caught." Elladan caught sight of the extra horse and turned inquisitive eyes back to his brother. "But why did you bring three horses? There are only two of us."

"No time to explain. We must mount and make it past the border and then I will tell you of my plan." Elrohir mounted and then kicked his horse into a canter.

"Where will we go?" Elladan asked, coming abreast of the mare.

"To Lothlorien," Elrohir replied, before urging his steed into a gallop, the steed of the Lord of Imladris following behind them.

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**Author's note: Yep, they stole Lord Elrond's horse. Naughty, naughty! What do you think Elrohir is planning to do with the proud stallion? **

**Next update: Saturday - Legolas finally wakes up!**


	12. Chapter 12: Far Better Thing I Do

**Author's note: I feel like a million bucks! *sarcasm* In reality, I have a nasty stomach bug I have been trying to find for over three weeks, but now the symptoms are rearing their ugly heads. Anyway, I scrimped and scrounged to finish this chapter for you despite feeling like crap, and while most of you are likely asleep now, I hope it will be a nice surprise when you wake up.**

**Quick shout-out to the awesome people that reviewed the last chapter: MariaJulietBituin, Nina, and Lady Mustard (Love the name! Can't get enough of the stuff ;)) Enjoy the chapter!**

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When Death Comes_ by Mary Oliver_

When death comes

like the hungry bear in autumn;

when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;

when death comes

like the measle-pox

when death comes

like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:

what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything

as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,

and I look upon time as no more than an idea,

and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common

as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,

tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something

precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world

Chapter Twelve: Far Better Thing I Do

~LOTRLOTRlOTR~

Elrond paced back and forth across the fireplace like a restless panther. What the Elvenking proposed was so perverse, so unhinged that it made his heart ache to even think about him sharing a part in it. Surely there was another way, his mind kept saying. But every idea proposed was shot down quickly after with the familiar words, 'that is not going to work.' But surely there must be something... something buried deep in the recesses of his mind. He just needed to think... think...think...

"Thranduil, he but a child!"

"Yes, he is a child," Thranduil replied coolly. "My only child."

"Yes, but—"

"If he dies the only light in my life will be extinguished and I will be alone in this world." He continued. No, I would not sail. I care for this realm too much to leave it to its destruction. But I will never be the same person or king. When Nariyath died I changed into a cold, gem-hungry facade. I was drowning in a pool of my own regret and sorrow until my son dragged me back and gave me life again." Thranduil stared so deeply at Elrond it almost appeared as though he was staring through him. "Tell me you would not do the same if the alternative could mean your child's life."

Elrond heard the pain in the Elvenking's voice and knew that Thranduil would be pacing the room with him if not for wanting to spend what could be his last moments with his dear son. It hurt a part of him to see his dear friend in so much anguish and it bothered him that he was not able to soothe it away as he normally did. But this was not a normal circumstance, not in the least, and in truth, he had no words of contention to bring forth against such a solid argument. All he could do now was offer his support and advice.

"I do not deny I would do the same.," Elrond muttered, after a time. "I'm not saying the death of your son would not change you, nor am I saying it is not meaningful. But I fear you are placing the risks above doing what is best for him."

"What is best for him? I am his father. I of all people know what is best for him!" Thranduil snarled. Then added, "If you don't agree with my methods why don't you suggest one of your own? Surely you must have something seeing as you've nearly paced the sealer off my floor!"

Elrond did not match the king's tone. "I do not have any suggestions of my own at this time." He held up his hand. "One may come to me, given time."

"Time is a luxury we cannot afford. My son is on the brink of death," Thranduil replied.

"Legolas is still fragile from the healing. It may prove too much for him."

Thranduil sighed and ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "I know, but this is our only recourse. You must see that now."

Elrond sighed. "Yes, I do." He frowned. "But to receive such cruel treatment from his own father? He could very well end of hating you for the rest of his life."

"I don't care if he ends of hating me in the grey havens! Thranduil exclaimed. "As long as he lives."

"If he lives, Thranduil. I know the effects of terror on a healing soul, and of the likelihood of death it can cause."

Thranduil "Healing? He took in the peredhel's perplexed expression and then looked at the elf lord with compassion. "Elrond... have you not glanced outside?"

Elrond frowned at this but turned toward the balcony. It was no longer day, but the middle of the night. At first, the peredhel had trouble seeing why this small change was so important, then he remembered.

"Legolas is no longer healing. Once a day has passed, the fëa is fully healed..."

Thranduil smiled sadly at him. "Now I see the reason behind your hesitance. You believed Legolas could die, whereas I only speculated it because I knew enough time had passed for him to be fully healed. Elrond, if I had known..."

The healer shook his head. "You couldn't have known." He smiled slightly. "What matters is that I have more faith in your plan than I had initially."

"You believe it could work?" Thranduil asked, unable to smother the surprise in his voice..

"I do, though I am still worried for him," Elrond replied calmly.

Thranduil sat back down and kneaded his hand through his son's golden hair. Then, he spoke. "I know you have known Legolas since he was born, but I have known him longer. Many months after he was conceived I felt his presence. It was unmistakable and so very strong. "He is strong enough to withstand this. But it will hurt him," Thranduil finished.

Elrond analyzed him for a moment and then sat down beside him. There was a right and a wrong time to speak to the Elvenking, and when said Elvenking was tending to his son was most certainly one of those times. Instead, he stayed silent, observing his movements and facial expressions. Any elf could see how much this was paining him, and a meticulous one could see how much he feared what would happen.

But only a friend would do something about it.

Elrond took Thranduil's hands into his own, squeezing them firmly in an attempt to stay the small trembling of them. When Thranduil met his gaze, he spoke.

"You are right. I only know him and love him as one of my sons and my patient." Elrond smiled to himself at the memories that blossomed from the thought for a short moment, then continued. "My love or inherent knowledge of him will never run as deep of yours. Therefore, I stand with your conviction and I will fulfill my role despite any pain it will cause me."

Thranduil smiled softly. "Thank you. I know your part in this will not be easy, but it is needed if we are to save him."

Elrond let go, satisfied that the trembles had lessened. But they would continue to remain until this ordeal was over, as his own would.

"And so it will not be on you, but we have no other choice. When do you plan on waking him?"

"Now," Thranduil replied abruptly before approaching the bed where his son lay. He waited for Elrond to get into place and then leaned down near his son's ear. "Come back to me my little Greenleaf," Thranduil whispered, caressing Legolas's cheek to coax his son to consciousness. Thranduil waited for his eyes to open before taking the child's tiny hand into his own, giving him an anchor as he awoke.

As expected, Legolas shrunk back against the headboard when he noticed the healer. Looking more like a mouse caught in the gaze of a hungry cat than an elf prince.

"A-ada, I don't understand…" the prince stuttered.

Thranduil spoke, his voice conveying surety while his expression remained neutral. "Elrond is merely going to sit here quietly. He will not move from this spot unless I give him permission to do so and he will not speak unless you speak to him. Elrond has graciously agreed to all of this because he does not want you to fear him." Thranduil stared sincerely into Legolas's eyes, noting that they were wide with fear. "Does this sound like someone who wants to harm you, my son?"

Legolas said nothing, only staring fearfully at the elf lord.

Thranduil was troubled by his son's lack of response. This was not supposed to cure him, but having his father by his side should have at least given his son some courage. Right now, Legolas looked anything but courageous. Thranduil tried not to take it personally, remembering the trust that had been shining in his eyes. Legolas trusted him, but likely could not speak, out of fear. Well, that needed to be fixed.

Thranduil and Elrond exchanged meaningful glances, both knowing what must now be done. Despite his heart's screaming pleas to keep hold, the Elvenking released his son's hand and stepped away.

Legolas, feeling his father's presence leave him, immediately started to panic. "No, adar! Please don't leave me!" he screamed.

"Relax Legolas, I am not leaving. I will remain where I stand for the time being but no closer," Thranduil said quickly and then diverted his gaze. "Elrond, you may now stand."

Legolas spared fearful glances to his father, breathing in and out once as the elf lord stood, tall and menacing. When the elf lord was given permission to take two steps forward, Legolas could hear his heart beating in his ears, almost in sync with the steps.

One more step...

_Why was his father doing this?_

Two more steps...

_Elrond was evil. Surely his ada knew this or he would not have confined him to the chair. Except, now he was walking toward him and his father was apparently allowing it._

Another two steps...

Legolas set his jaw in determination. His father would never let Elrond hurt him. He had nothing to fear.

_Except he was._

The elf lord was standing only a foot away from him now and Legolas looked at his father pleadingly. He nearly cried in relief when the next words were spoken.

"That is far enough, Elrond," Thranduil said.

Legolas took the opportunity to scoot backward on the bed a bit, gazing at his father quizzically.

Thranduil noticed some of the tension leave his son, but he was still tight as a drum. After a time Thranduil ordered the elf lord back to his seat, noting how his son's eyes stayed glued to his own as if a moment of ill attention would mean his life.

Thranduil closed his eyes in realization. Legolas did trust him. In fact, the Elvenking likely held every ounce of it at that moment. This was a big problem that needed to be remedied, as he had foreseen. But he was not one bit ready to do so.

Legolas became worried when his father did not return to him as he was expecting. "Ada?"

Closing his eyes, Thranduil exhaled on a quivering breath before speaking in a tone of voice that none had heard before; a voice that cajoled the listener into believing it would break at any moment.

"This is for your own good, Legolas. I am sorry." With that, the Elvenking walked over to the door and swiftly left the room before he could change his mind.

"NO!" Legolas screamed. "Come back! Please don't leave me alone!"

"Please, Ada! Come back! PLEASE!"

Legolas screamed and cried until his throat hurt, begging his father to come back and never taking his eyes off the door through which he had vanished. He couldn't understand why his father would leave him alone with the monstrous elf, and his mind offered a disheartening answer: You have caused your father so much heartache that he doesn't know how to help you anymore.

Legolas choked on a tear and shook his head, pushing the thought away as an untruth. The longer he dwelled on it though, the truer it became. "I have been abandoned, Legolas whimpered softly, not loud enough for the elf lord to overhear. With his peripheral vision that was blurred from the tears, he watched the elf lord, his body trembling against the brass bed frame as he waited for the horrible fate that surely awaited him.

Suddenly though, Legolas heard something through his cries.

The elfling quieted slightly, curiously waiting for the sound to come again. It did, intermeshing with his own cries, and Legolas recognized it as the sound of someone sobbing.

The pull of curiosity too strong to fight, Legolas lifted his head.

The sight that greeted him made the elfling flinch. Elrond was leaning forward, his head held in his hands as gentle sobs escaped his lips. At that moment, Legolas did not feel the weight of fear, rather he felt compassion and it urged him to speak.

"Why are you crying?"

The dark-haired elf raised his head and Legolas fought the instinct to back away, instead, keeping still as a pained voice spoke.

"Because my heart is breaking, Legolas."

The prince, being the young age he was, did not understand.

He wiped his eyes. "Would tree sap help? One time I accidentally broke a vase in ada's study and I put the pieces back together with sticky tree sap."

Elrond chuckled and it was the last thing that Legolas was expecting. The young prince visibly jumped, his hand squeezing harder onto the brass frame of the bed.

"I am sorry," Elrond apologized, feeling his eyes brim with more tears at the sight of the elfling so very terrified of him. He cleared his throat gently. "I truly did not mean to frighten you."

"O-kay," Legolas replied. A short time later the elfling spoke again. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Elrond winced internally, mind grasping for the right words to say that didn't have a chance at distressing Legolas. _Is because I love you, threatening? What about I don't want you to be scared of me, or I have known you since you were born?_ "Because I care for you," Elrond finally said.

Legolas shook his head and fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. "No, n-no you don't...you hurt me." Legolas narrowed his eyes dangerously. "You're a monster." Before Elrond could respond, the elfling rose from the bed and pulled out his father's sword from underneath the pillow he slept, speaking in a tone that suited a much older elf. "I am not tied down this time."

Elrond was physically unable to speak, glued to the chair as if they were one. He could only look on with horror as the once sweet and innocent elfling stared him down, the sharp blade now so close that he could almost feel the cool kiss of the metal against his flesh.

"Defend yourself, peredhel," Legolas almost spat the word as icily as his father did, his eyes dark with pain and anger.

While most elves would have drawn their sword at this point, Elrond merely rose to his feet and lowered himself to the ground.

He spoke calmly, almost peacefully.

"I swear to you by all that is good that whatever I did to you was not of my will but an accident. If I am to die by your hand, then I offer my life as penance for the wrong I have inflicted upon you. I hope that after I am gone you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Spreading his arms wide in complete submission, he held the gaze of the elfling a while longer. Then his eyes closed and the blade fell.

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**Author's note: Those of you who are familiar with the Charles Dicken's classic A Tale of Two Cities, could probably tell the self-sacrifice direction this story would take. As for the rest of you, sorry about the cliffy, but there was no way to split the entire scene cleanly. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to bed.**

**Next chapter: Indeterminate because of sickness, but a chapter will come as soon as possible.**


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